


Perfect Disasters & Ever Afters

by nothing_but_a_tragedy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Self-injury (Cutting), alcohol and drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_but_a_tragedy/pseuds/nothing_but_a_tragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is running around, looking for the love he's never really had. Louis Tomlinson is running away from love to protect himself. That is, until Harry stops him in his tracks. The problem? Harry may have finally found his Prince Charming in someone else, and Louis is too busy trying to save someone that isn't his to save to realize what he has right in front of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So a few points I want to make before we get started!
> 
> 1) Yes, this is a bit long for a "prologue" but it takes place a few months before the story actually starts, so it felt out of place as a regular "chapter"
> 
> 2) This is a fan FICTION. I based Harry's character off of my (foster) brother, but that's as real as it gets. The story is FICTION. I do not make any profit off of this and I do not own anything. I do not know any of the people mentioned. So, basically, don't sue me for using my twisted mind and creating a complete work of FICTION. Thanks.
> 
> 3) The title comes from the song "Ever After" by Marianas Trench :) (One of the many songs that inspired this to begin with)
> 
> 4) Please look at my tags. Parts of this story could be very triggering and if you feel this will be bad for you to read DON'T READ IT!!!!
> 
> 5) There is quite a bit of Larry friendship/unrequited love but they are NOT endgame. In the end, this isn't a Larry love story. Sorry for those who were looking for that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's past leaves him slightly unprepared to meet the human angel, Niall Horan.

            Harry didn’t believe in fairytales.

            Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He believed in fairtytale-esque loves, but he’d given up on ever having one for himself. He couldn’t really blame himself for the fact that he used to believe, though. He had the beginning down pact.

            Born in London to a happily married mom and dad and older sister, everything should have gone well. The family wasn’t rich, but was nowhere near poor, having all the means to give their children what they needed. The problem was, they didn’t want to.

            Mr. and Mrs. Styles loved Gemma, their daughter (or liked her, in the least), but for Harry, the feelings were never there. He heard his mom was “sick” (postpartum depression, he’d later realize) and she apparently couldn’t help it when she would get angry and take her anger out on her son.

            _“Just take it,”_ his father would say. _“It doesn’t last long and it makes her feel so much better, Harry.”_

            So Harry took it. Usually, he didn’t even cry. His dad was proud of him for that.

            Eventually, Harry’s mother’s method of coping stopped working. She could no longer stand the site of either of her children and so stayed locked in her room all day every day. Then one day, when Harry was five, she was just…gone. His father was sitting on the bottom step, crying (which was a terrifying thing all on its own) and he told the children that their mother had run away. Harry knew he should be sad, but he wasn’t, really. Neither, it seemed, was Gemma, who pointed out that they didn’t really need her anyway. Their father apparently _did_ need her, though, and began drinking to fill the void his wife had left. He wasn’t a pleasant drunk. Sometimes he would do the same things to Harry that his wife used to do, except he was stronger, so it hurt worse. All the while, he’d be bellowing, tears rolling down his face, _“You did this to her! To me! You made her leave! Why did you have to be born, Harry?! Why?!”_

            And yeah, that hurt more than the physical punches, but he still didn’t cry. If he wanted there to ever be a chance that his dad would love him again, he just had to _take it._

            But it didn’t matter how good Harry was because his dad left too. He took Gemma and Harry out for ice cream and then dropped them off at the toy store, saying he would pick them up soon.

            He never came back.

            Gemma and Harry were put into foster care then. They stayed together at first, but were eventually separated, and that was the first time Harry realized that he was alone.

            His foster families didn’t like him, usually getting rid of him as soon as they could. No one at school liked him. But still, Harry kept dreaming that someday he would meet someone who would love him and take him away from this mess of life.

            The first person to show interest in him was an eleventh grader, when he was a freshman. The guy’s name was Matthew and he was gorgeous and popular. He started to hang around Harry a lot, threatening anyone that said a word about it. Harry fell in love, which is why he let Matthew take his very sacred virginity in a bathroom stall at school, because you had to make sacrifices, even in fairytales, right?          

            Eventually, he changed foster homes again, and changed schools as well. Matthew promised to keep in touch. He didn’t. But that was okay because then Harry met Lake. He’d had a crush on him since first laying eyes on him, but doubted that the other guy knew of his existence. He was wrong, though. Lake was interested in him too, as long as he changed his style and lost a few pounds, which Harry gladly did. They got together, and it was anything but magical. Lake was the perfect mixture of Harry’s mom and dad, with Matthew sprinkled in. Harry didn’t blame him, though. There was something clearly wrong with _him_ , he realized; something completely unlovable. He deserved this. All of it.

            Lake eventually dumped him, finding a prettier boy to corrupt, and Harry was heartbroken.

            Then along came Justin. He wasn’t abusive in the slightest and based their relationship on more than just sex. After two years, he proposed and finally, _finally_ , Harry started to think that maybe someone could love him after all. They were planning a wedding. They’d been approved for adoption. And then Justin slept with some beautiful up-and-coming model.

            For the first time, it was Harry leaving. It was kind of funny, he supposed, that after all he’d put up with from others, he left because of a drunk one-night stand. It hurt different, though. It hurt more because, deep down, he always knew his parents, Matthew, Lake…he knew they never loved him, but Justin had him fooled.

            So stupid. Harry was so, so stupid.

            He didn’t only run from Justin when he left. Harry fled the country and his stupid job at the mall to go to California and become something. For once, luck was on his side, and he was quickly signed to a modeling agency.

            Things should have started looking up then. They didn’t.

            Sure, people paid attention to Harry now. They respected him. But Harry no longer respected himself.

            So that was how the little boy who dreamt of love and happily ever after became a Hollywood disaster; starving himself for work when he had to and partying every day of the week; drinking way too much and snorting and swallowing every drug he could get ahold of so that when he went home with a stranger for the night, he could pretend it was love. He could pretend he wasn’t completely disgusted with himself before waking in the morning and fleeing.

            One good thing did come from his fame, though. He was reunited with Gemma, who he was now sharing a house with, if only for the fact that he didn’t want to be alone-and she knew he shouldn’t be anyway.

            Right at that very second, where this story really begins, he was alone, but that was okay because he wouldn’t be for long. He was greatly intoxicated; stumbling around the after party of Gemma’s boyfriend’s band’s album release celebration, looking for whatever guy was going to take him for the night. He’d met some prospects-had been snapped snogging five(ish) guys already, but Harry just wasn’t feeling it with any of them. But no matter. The night was young; the club crawling with gorgeous men, and Harry even had to admit he looked rather hot that evening. His Prince Charming for the night was out there somewhere.

            “Romeo!” he cried dramatically, thrashing his arms out wildly as if reaching out for the nameless, faceless person. “Romeo! Whereart thou you?”

            No one really heard him. The music was blaring, and Harry wasn’t exactly _wanting_ to be heard, so he still wasn’t deflated. Feeling determined, he began skipping-literally skipping because it was going to be a good night-through the club, assured that someone would soon sweep him off his feet and into their arms before carrying him off into the sunset. Or at least a limo for a pre-sex blow job. Instead of that happening though, Harry felt himself falling, hitting the ground with a hard thud, and hoped that wasn’t a metaphor of his love life.

            “Oh shit,” he thought he heard someone say before blinking his eyes into focus and seeing a face looking down at him worriedly; a beautiful face…a vaguely familiar face…

            “Are you alright?” the boys asked in some accent Harry couldn’t quite place due to the music.

            “I think I tripped,” Harry explained and the guy laughed a little bit.

            “Yeah, I’m afraid that was me own fault. Just had me legs stretched right out, disrespectful of anyone just skipping by.”

            Harry smiled and took the hand the beautiful, familiar stranger offered and stood shakily to his feet, the guy holding onto his shoulders while he steadied himself before wrapping an arm around his waist.

            “Do I know you?” Harry asked. “You look so familiar. You look like an angel.”

            The guy laughed again, shaking his blonde head as his blue eyes lit up in amusement. “We don’t actually know each other, no, but you’ve maybe heard of me? Niall Horan…”

            Yes, of course, Harry realized. Of course this was Niall Horan, the singer from Ireland who made worldwide success on his very first album. They guy’s name and face was _everywhere_.

            “Oh, yes, yes,” Harry said with a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m a little tipsy.”

            “You’re properly smashed, I think,” Niall chuckled.

            Harry just smiled, falling a little more into Niall as he tried to shift his weight. “And do you know who I am?”

            “Of course. You’re the beautiful Harry Styles.”

            _Beautiful._ The word made Harry beam, dimples flashing out as his rescuer. (Yes, rescuer. He would have been trampled to death if Niall hadn’t helped him up.)

            “Do you know what I’m famous for?” Harry asked, pressing himself against Niall, who smiled but otherwise held his composure, still not releasing his grip from Harry’s hip.

            “Your ability to rock the runway?” he guessed, and Harry laughed. Maybe even snorted.

            “Nooo. Well, yes, kind of. But it’s what I do _off_ the runway that people really like.”

            “Is that so?” Niall asked, eyebrow raised but face otherwise unreadable.

            “Mhm,” Harry replied, unbuttoning the top two buttons on the other’s shirt. “Can I go home with you? I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

            “Sure you can,” Niall agreed after just a moment’s hesitation as he took Harry’s hand in his. “Just give me a few and we’ll get out of here, okay?”

            Harry nodded, blinking slowly up at his lover for the night before stumbling his way to the bar for a couple more drinks before Niall took him away.

            He’d managed to down a cocktail and three shots before finally feeling a hand on his lower back. Spinning around-and being caught as he fell backwards-Harry grinned up at the other man.

            “Hello!”

            “Hey. You ready to go?”

            “Ready Freddy!”

            Lacing hands together, the two exited the club. Paparazzi cameras started going crazy. Niall allowed Harry into the limo first and off they went, that nervous, sick feeling rising in Harry’s gut. It would be okay, he told himself. This was a good thing. Niall wanted him. Niall Horan-a hugely famous and lusted after singer-chose _him_ for the night out of a whole club of pretty girls and boys.

            The ride to his house-or hotel, more accurately-was odd. There was no groping, making out or pre-sex blow jobs. There was only Niall’s head on Harry’s shoulder as they rode in silence.

“I’ll be right there. Would you like something to eat or anything?” Niall asked when they reached his suite.

            “No thank you!” Harry sang, finding his way to the bed immediately.

            “Okay. Make yourself comfortable.”

            Niall disappeared into the bathroom and Harry took off his shirt and shoes before climbing onto the bed and lying across it seductively.

            Soon, Niall re-emerged in his boxers, smiling when he saw Harry. Harry smiled also, heart thumping as the blonde made his way over. However, instead of climbing on top of Harry, twisting his hair in between his fingers and beginning to ravish his body with that pretty little mouth, Niall climbed under the sheets, looking sleepy and still positively angelic.

            “Um…what’s going on?” Harry asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

            “I want a cuddle buddy,” Niall announced. “Is that okay?”

            Harry stared, still confused and a bit scared.

            “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, voice higher pitched than he would have liked.

            “Not at all.”

            “Then…why…?”

            “I just like cuddling.”

            Harry stared for a full minute because was this guy serious?

            The way he kept smiling up at Harry hinted that yes, he was serious, so shrugging it off, Harry laid down. Niall pulled him close, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead before closing his eyes. Harry had to admit that it kind of felt good. His body remained pure for a night, but he still had someone to fall asleep next to. It felt almost…domestic.

            Soon, he was asleep, for once in a long time not fighting tears off as he began to doze.

            Harry woke up alone and for a second then, he did want to cry, but then he heard the door open, followed by the smell of sweets and coffee and, finally, a blonde head appeared around the corner.

            “Oh, you’re awake!” Niall exclaimed happily. “How’s the hangover?”

            “Not too bad,” Harry answered. Though he’d been decently drunk the night before, he’d been smart about it, not mixing his alcohol (much) and making sure to drink at least a little bit of water throughout the night as well.

            “Good. I got some coffee and pastries. But if you prefer tea, I can run back and get you that instead.”

            Niall brought breakfast for _him_? This was all so odd. Not only did the singer bring him back for a night of cuddling, but he let him sleep in and then brought him breakfast too. Harry was, once again, confused.

            “Coffee is fine,” Harry assured the other man when he’d raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. “Thank you.”

            The pastries were delicious and though Harry knew he shouldn’t really be eating them, it would be rude to turn the food down, and he only felt slightly guilty. At least he didn’t have a show for a few days yet.

            “I have to get to the studio,” Niall said soon after the pair had finished their meal. “My driver will drop you off on the way.”

            “Oh, I can get a cab,” Harry said quickly, not wanting to be a bother, especially when he’d done absolutely nothing for Niall.

            “I insist,” the blonde said with a bright smile and, again, Harry couldn’t say no.

 

            Niall’s driver, Gus, apparently, gave the both of them strange looks as they clambered into the back of the car, but didn’t say anything. Harry told him where he lived and he drove off without a word.

            “I’m so rude,” Niall spoke after a minute of silence. “I didn’t ask how you slept last night.”

            “Oh, um, great, actually,” Harry said, not sure why Niall would care. “And you?”

            “Excellent. You make a great cuddle buddy.”

            Harry smiled and Niall returned it. After another minute of quiet, he spoke again.

            “So…this may be brash, but can I take you out sometime?”

            Harry’s mouth very nearly fell open. The only time he was used to seeing guys more than once was when they wanted another dirty hook-up. No one ever wanted to ‘take him out.’ What _was_ Niall Horan?

            “Sure. Um, yeah,” Harry spluttered. Niall smiled yet again.

            The two exchanged numbers and soon-too soon-they arrived at Harry’s house.

            “Thank you for last night,” Niall said.

            “You’re welcome,” Harry replied because it was the polite thing to do.

            “I’ll walk you to your door.”

            Harry may have almost fainted.

            Before departing, Niall gave Harry a kiss on the cheek and a promise to call him later. Still trying to wrap his head around the past twelve-ish hours, Harry watched the singer retreat back to his car, feeling as if he might be falling in love with an actual in-real-life, not-just-for-one-night, Prince Charming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis meets Harry, who maybe softens his heart just a little bit.

            The sound of his phone ringing interrupted the game on television Louis told himself he was trying to watch, and he scowled. It wasn’t even five in the evening yet. Who could possibly be trying to get ahold of him at this hour? He usually was kept in blissful solitude until night, when the clubs would open and the parties would start. (Louis’ friends weren’t the type to plan ahead.)

            “Hello, Gemma!” Louis answered the phone politely despite the rude interruption of his peace.

            “Hey, Lou! You don’t happen to have plans for tonight yet do you?” his friend asked, and Louis rolled his eyes.

“Come now, Gem, you know it is far too early for me to think about anything like _plans_.”

From the other end of the line, the woman laughed.

            “Of course it is. But that’s good because you have plans now.”

            “Oh, do I?”

            “Yes. You are coming out with Ashton, Harry and me.”

            Ashton was Gemma’s boyfriend. Louis had only met him a couple times, but he was a nice lad; fun. Louis had yet to meet Harry, Gemma’s brother, though of course knew of him from the tabloids. And…well…Louis wasn’t going to judge the guy before he met him, but there was no denying he was a little off his rocker.

            “Mmm…that kind of sounds like a double date, Gemma,” Louis said. “Doesn’t Harry have a boyfriend? That one blonde Irish singer?”

            “Yes…he is dating Niall…,” Gemma said, voice uneasy.

            “So why doesn’t he go?” Louis suggested. His friend sighed, voice low as she spoke.

            “Because they’re having a couple of issues right now.”

Louis’ eyebrow quirked up, but before he could question further (yes, he was a gossiper and he was not ashamed), Gemma spoke again, voice much more cheerful than a minute ago.

“Besides, I just want Harry to have a good time and meet new people!”

            “So what you’re saying is, you want me to have a good time with your baby brother?”

            “ _Not_ that kind of good time,” the woman scolded. “As we just discussed, he _does_ have a boyfriend.”

            As Louis saw it, if Harry wanted to be unfaithful, that wasn’t _his_ problem, but instead of saying so, he just said, “Okay, fine. I will be your brother’s totally platonic date so you and Ashton can go get pregnant in the bathroom or something.”

            “Thank you,” Gemma said, letting Louis’ crack at her and her boyfriend slide. “Oh, and Louis?”

            “Yes?”

            “My brother is pretty amazing.”

            “I’m sure he is, Gem.”

            “So no falling in love with him.”

            At that, Louis let out a laugh so loud that Gemma probably had to pull the phone away from her ear.

            “I don’t fall in love, Gems. You know that.”

            “One day you will,” Gemma said, voice alarmingly soft.

            “I sincerely hope not.”

 

            The three others picked Louis up that night in a freaking limo, and he shook his head, kindly thanking the driver as he opened the door for him.

            “Louis!” Gemma exclaimed, leaning over awkwardly to give Louis a hug.

            “Hello,” Louis greeted, giving her a kiss on the cheek before bumping fists with Ashton. Only then did Louis’ gaze find the boy sitting on the opposite side of the limo, staring intently at his lap. Harry.

            Louis just looked at him for a few long seconds before speaking. He couldn’t help it. Harry really _was_ pretty. Of course, he already knew he was attractive from magazines and such, but those photos didn’t really do him justice, he now realized. The boy’s skin was pale, contrasting beautifully with the dark curls that framed his face. His lips were red and full, his body long and thin, and when he finally looked up, having felt Louis’ eyes on him, Louis was looking at the prettiest shade of green gazing back at him, the eyes that held it curious…sad.

            “Hello, Harry,” Louis said, alarmed then at how his soft voice had turned. The corners of Harry’s mouth twitched up in what some might say was a smile.

            “Hello, Louis,” Harry greeted back and for a moment, Louis froze because _how did Harry know his name?_

            Of course, that was a foolish question. Gemma had just said it, and besides, Louis wasn’t entirely unknown in the celebrity world himself, what with being a big-name British football player and such.

            Louis sat next to Harry as the limo started moving, but the model said barely a word all the way to the club. This really wasn’t what Louis was expecting. The guy portrayed as Harry Styles in the media was loud, wild and…well, admittedly a bit slutty. He knew that the media tended to blow things out of proportion, but how could they possibly get _that_ persona from this quiet boy sitting next to him, almost completely drawn into himself?

            Louis got the answer to his question upon reaching the club. As soon as they were inside, Harry made a beeline for the bar. Louis lost count of exactly how much alcohol Harry had managed to drink in the first hour, but he knew that he was impressed. The more Harry drank, the more he started to come out of his shell, and Louis noticed that he was even prettier when he smiled, teeth perfectly straight and white, dimples deep and prominent.

            “You know, you really should smile more,” Louis said into the guy’s ear, coming up behind him with a couple more drinks, one for each of them. Harry took his and turned to Louis, that perfect smile on his face again.

            “Why?” he questioned, voice just slightly slurred. “Smiling causes wrinkles.”

            “Life causes wrinkles,” Louis pointed out. “Besides, you’re so beautiful and you look even more beautiful when you smile.”

            Somehow, the grin on Harry’s face got bigger at that, his green eyes glinting with joy.

            “Do you want to dance?” Harry asked.

            “Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Louis questioned, tensing a little as he looked around for Gemma. Harry rolled his eyes. Or attempted to, though he didn’t have much control over them at this point.

            “It’s just dancing.”

            “Alright,” Louis relented. The two downed their drinks, set down the empty glasses and made their way to the dance floor.

            Despite the fact that Harry was bigger than Louis-well, taller, at least-Louis was the one spinning him, lifting him and dipping him, aware that they should maybe be in a ballroom instead of the middle of an almost-rave, but Louis was having fun. He was more sober than he usually was while out, but that didn’t hinder his entertainment at all. It made him smile when he would have to catch Harry from falling onto the floor after a spin, and his heart gave a happy jump every time he would lift up the taller man by the waist, just like in the movies, and turn them both before setting him carefully back to his feet, because every time, Harry would let out a delighted squeal, face lit in pure child-like happiness as he clung to Louis’ shirt, alcohol making him feel unsteady even though the last thing Louis would do was drop him.

            “Okay,” Harry finally said after three songs had gone by, the two not slowing down once. “We have to break. Too much spinning. Gonna puke.”

            Louis laughed, leading the younger man over to one of the empty couches. Harry sighed happily, stretching his body out and laying his head in Louis’ lap, eyes closed to stop the dizziness. Louis was a bit dizzy himself, but refused to shut his eyes, instead staring down at the other’s pale, peaceful face. Louis still didn’t want to fall in love-didn’t even know if he could, to be honest-but if he did, he would want it to be with someone like Harry Styles.

           


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gemma worries about Louis and Harry's budding friendship

            As Harry started to come to the next morning, he expected to be greeted with a text from Niall. He had been aware of the several pictures and videos being taken-and undoubtedly posted all over the internet-of him and Louis last night. Not that Niall would care who he was hanging out with. He trusted him. Harry had never given him a reason not to, and never would. It was just the standard after a night of partying to wake up with a worried text from his boyfriend, especially if he knew Harry had been upset beforehand.

            Harry didn’t want Niall to worry; not really. He would be lying if he said the concern didn’t make him feel good, but he didn’t do these things to stress out his boyfriend or his sister. He did it because he’d forgotten any other way to live and he legitimately enjoyed it…usually. He supposed.

            He didn’t, however, wake up from a text from Niall which, okay, it stung a little bit. The singer was on tour, stopping in LA when he could to spend time with Harry, as he had yesterday. Except their day had ended short in a fight and it appeared they weren’t going to make up for it before he left today.

            His phone wasn’t completely empty, though. He may not have had a text from Niall, but he did have one from Louis, whose number Harry hadn’t even been aware he had before this point, but alright then. (When he thought hard enough about it, he may have remembered giddily exchanging phone numbers in the limo after leaving the club, proudly proclaiming to Gemma and Ashton that they were BFFs now.)

            _Morning_ , the text message read. _Wanna go to lunch 2day? That is, if ur not feeling too terrible_

The time on Harry’s phone told him that it was after noon, so it was a little late for lunch, or would be by the time he forced himself to get ready.

            _Soz, just woke up,_ Harry typed out. _How about dinner instead?_

He laid there for a couple minutes, phone in hand, waiting for a reply, but one never came, so Harry got up, ignoring the dull ache in his head, and went to the bathroom before making his way downstairs for something to drink and, possibly, a bit to eat.

            When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry was surprised to see Louis sitting on the couch with Gemma.

            “Hey, sleepyhead!” Louis greeted with a smile. Harry’s confused frown turned into a small smile as well.

            “Hello. I just replied to your text.”

            “Oh, did you?” Louis asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket and assumedly checking the message.

            “Dinner is fine,” he commented after a moment, locking his phone and sliding it back into his pocket. Eyebrows raised, Gemma glanced between the two of them, but they ignored her.

            Louis announced that he had to leave just a few minutes later, but assured Harry he would be back that evening to pick him up.

            “So…,” Gemma spoke after Harry had seen Louis to the door, following him to the kitchen as he got himself a glass of water.

            “So?” Harry repeated, questioning.

            “Dinner, huh?”

            At that, Harry rolled his eyes.

            “Yes, Gemma. Dinner. Just dinner. Not a dinner _date_. Just dinner.”

            “And how would Niall feel?”

            “I think Niall would be happy that I’m eating,” Harry pointed out, and Gemma bit her lip, looking a bit guilty. “Besides,” Harry continued, “he eats with his friends. It’s a thing that happens. And I haven’t talked to him since yesterday afternoon, so…”

Harry trailed off, but Gemma stared. The brother cleared his throat awkwardly.

            “Don’t worry, okay? I may be a bit of a slut when I’m single, but I’m not single and I’m _not_ a cheater.”

            “I know,” Gemma said, sounding as if she might cry for some reason. Before Harry could question her about it, she pulled him into a tight hug, eliciting a small ‘oof’ from him.

            “Gem…you’re being weird,” he commented and she gave a small laugh, releasing her brother but keeping a hand on his shoulder.

            “I just want you to be happy, Haz,” she said. “And I wish you knew you didn’t need a guy’s attention to do that.”

            “Oh, Lord,” Harry sighed, heading back to his bedroom with a roll of his eyes.

 

            Louis arrived to pick Harry up right when he said he would, but before he even rang the doorbell, the door was flung open and out came Gemma, shutting the door tightly behind her.

            “What are you doing?” she demanded, mildly glaring at Louis, whose hand was still half outstretched for the bell. He dropped it quickly.

            “Going to dinner with Harry,” he answered like it was obvious, because it should have been.

            “Louis, I told you not to-”

            “Whoa, no, stop right there. Your brother needs a _friend_ , Gemma. Like, a proper mate. And that’s all I am. That’s all I _want_ to be.”         

            The woman pursed her lips, clearly disapproving, and a surge of anger coursed through Louis.

            “What’s the problem?” he questioned. “ _You_ are the one who said you wanted him to meet new people and have a good time!”

            “Yes, meet new people to hang around and have fun in a _casual_ setting!”

            “This is casual. Dinner doesn’t always mean flowers and candles. It’s a meal. Dinner happens every day.”

            Gemma huffed and Louis sighed, feeling a little bad though he told himself he shouldn’t.

            “Look, I’m not going to do anything to your little brother, okay? He’s safe with me. _I’m_ not a threat.”

            With that, he rang the doorbell, though it was mainly a call for help rather than announcing his presence. With a sigh, Gemma walked back in the house, leaving the door open for Louis to let himself in. Harry was just reaching the bottom stop, dressed in a button-up shirt and a nice pair of jeans. Louis smiled.

            “Ready to go?”

            Harry nodded, a small smile on his face as well, before giving his sister a kiss on the cheek and following Louis out the door.

            Louis still really couldn’t understand why Gemma had been so upset. Like he’d said, _she_ was the one who wanted Harry to ‘meet new people,’ and she’d even been the one to introduce them. Besides, it was _just dinner_.

            The thing was, though, Louis had never actually went to dinner with anyone before. He didn’t date. Not that this was a date, but still…

            He had also never found himself so intent on making someone laugh just to see their smile. He told himself it was just because he was a good person. Harry was sad-not at this moment, just in general-and Louis was just trying to add some good to his life.

            Louis also told himself it didn’t bother him when Harry got a call from Niall and left the table to talk to him, but the way he downed his alcoholic beverage after that begged to differ. Louis decided not to think about it.

            After dinner, Louis took Harry straight home, but Harry claimed he needed exercise after ‘all that food’ (despite the fact that he’d eaten half a salad and a few pieces of broiled chicken) and asked Louis if he would like to join him on a walk. Louis agreed.

            They were quiet at the beginning, but Louis didn’t mind. The sadness in Harry’s eyes was there, but the corners of his mouth were turned up and he looked more contemplative than anything. Finally, the model spoke.

            “Are you single?”

            Louis’ heart rate picked up. _Why was Harry asking him this?_

“Um…yes…” he answered despite his nerves.

            “Why?” Harry asked.

            “Um…”

            Louis didn’t really know how to answer that, but luckily, Harry didn’t make him squirm for too long before he spoke again.

            “It’s just that you’re gorgeous and nice and really funny, so I just think it’s weird.”

            Louis wondered for an instant if Harry was hitting on him, but decided he wasn’t. He had a boyfriend; one that was attractive himself and probably much more emotionally available than Louis. So he gave a laugh, trying to settle his pointless nerves.

            “I just keep to myself,” he admitted. “I mean, I know that love is real and whatnot, but I don’t want it. It may be nice sometimes, but it rarely ends up that way and it’s just not worth it.”

            “That’s a tragic point of view,” Harry said after a beat of silence.

            “Nah, it’s just safe.”

            “I kind of get it though, I think, maybe. I love Niall and I’m glad I’m with him, but he’s not always here, you know? Sometimes I just wish I knew how to be alone.”

            Louis smiled, not because Harry’s words were funny or anything, but because he found it ironic that, even as he was looking into Harry’s pretty green eyes and giving his small anti-love speech, he had found himself maybe wishing he knew how _not_ to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, lovelies! I promise Niall will be back soon, and Zayn and Liam will make their entrances in due time :) Thanks for reading! (Chapters will also *probably* start getting a little longer as we go.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't know how to handle it when Niall leaves and Louis tries to help him, all the while telling himself that the feelings he's developing for the model mean nothing

            Harry had another visitor waiting for him on his couch the next morning. This time, it wasn’t Louis. It was a face that was much more familiar.

            All remaining sleepiness immediately left Harry’s body and, squealing, he ran and plopped himself down on his visitor’s lap, giving his neck a warm, gentle kiss.

            “I missed you too,” Niall said with a laugh.

            “What are you doing back here already?” Harry asked, though his voice was full of nothing but delight.

            “I couldn’t just leave after the other day, could I? Well, actually, I _did_ leave, but I came back.”

            “But…your tour…”

            “Everything is worked out, babe, I promise. Besides, nothing is more important than spending time with my love.”

            Niall had his arms wrapped around Harry’s waist and Harry placed a kiss on his cheek. Harry beamed.

            “Are you hungry?” Niall asked. Harry nodded.

            The singer made both of them French toast, humming to himself as he cooked, and Harry watched lovingly. He knew that one of Niall’s favorite things in the world was cooking for him, and wondered what he would do in a couple weeks when Harry went back to modeling (having taken a couple month break when his previous contract was up) and he had to be more careful with his diet. He wondered briefly if Niall would grow tired of him, but that thought was terrifying and so Harry pushed it out of his mind, or at least started ignoring it.

            “Here ya go!” Niall said happily as he placed Harry’s plate in front of him before taking his own seat.

            “Thank you,” Harry said with a fond smile, which Niall returned.

            “Of course.”

            After breakfast, the couple decided to cuddle and watch TV for just a little bit before going swimming. Harry and Gemma had a pool, naturally, and Gemma wasn’t even home, so Niall and Harry were alone, but when Harry walked out in his swim trunks to find his boyfriend already in the pool, he couldn’t help but to keep his shirt on too.

            “What’s with the shirt?” Niall questioned, moving his wet hair out of his eyes as he gazed up at the other man.

            “I’m not exactly as fit as I was before I took my break,” Harry pointed out. Really, he’d gained less than five pounds and Niall had said he could use some extra weight anyway, but that didn’t make Harry feel any better about it.

            “So?” Niall asked like he legitimately didn’t see the problem. “You’re still just as gorgeous.”

            Harry smiled and it was a real smile, it was, but he kept his shirt on as he lowered his body into the water. Niall moved to wrap himself around the front of Harry like a koala.

            “You’re so insecure,” he said softly, placing a wet kiss on the other’s neck.

            “Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked, forehead creased with worry. He _was_ insecure, but he tried not to show it that much. He didn’t want to annoy Niall away.

            “It just means I’m going to have to work harder in proving that you’re amazing and perfect,” Niall said, moving his lips from Harry’s neck to his jawline. Harry smiled, for a brief moment believing that Niall meant the words he said.

 

            Niall had to leave again that night which meant that Harry was left lying in bed, sleep far away from him. He was always like this when Niall left; anxious…on edge. Before Niall, Harry had gotten used to the emptiness that he felt constantly, but now that he wasn’t always completely alone, the emptiness wasn’t so…empty. Niall filled a part of him that had been crying for someone, for something, so long, but whenever he wasn’t around, it was left lonely once again, and it seemed to grow worse every time the two had to say goodbye. It was pathetic, but that’s the way it was.

            Reaching over to grab his cell phone from his nightstand, Harry hesitated only a minute before sending a text to Louis.

            _Can you teach me how to be alone?_

Harry watched his phone, waiting for a reply, and blinked when _Louis Tomlinson calling_ showed up on his phone instead.

            “Hello?” he answered quickly, unsure.

            “Hey. Is everything okay?”

            “Ihate long distance relationships!” Harry whined. “Niall visited me this morning and it was great. I was so happy. Butnow he’s gone again and I’m freaking out.”

            “Why are you freaking out?”

            “Because I’m a disaster.”

            “Harry…”

            The model sighed. “Because what if that was the last time I see him? What if he decides to never come back?”

            “Do you really think he’d do that?”

            Harry chewed on his lip then, thinking.

            “I don’t know,” he finally said. “He’s never given me a reason to feel like that, I guess, but…I don’t deserve him, Louis. I know that. He must too.”

            “You _do_ deserve him, Harry.”

            “No. You don’t know him.”

            “But I know you. You really don’t give yourself enough credit, you know?”

            After a moment, Harry sighed again.

            “I’m sorry…I know I’m being…crazy. Just…I told you I don’t know how to be alone, Louis. This always happens and I hate it.”

            “Unfortunately, I don’t really have any advice,” Louis said. “It’s just the way I am naturally, the whole loner thing. I can help you not be alone, though. I know I’m not Niall, but would you like my company tomorrow anyway?”

            “I would love it,” Harry said with a smile, finally starting to relax a little.

 

            This feeling was foreign to Louis. It wasn’t love, but it was something. Not that he was a robot or anything. He had emotions and he felt empathy and compassion. He had friends that he would go out and party with, and he never longed for more. He could go to those friends if he ever needed someone to go to, and vice versa, but Louis didn’t ever _need_ someone.

            But it was different with Harry.

            Louis didn’t need him, per se, but he did enjoy spending time with him, and not only in the club. He honestly just enjoyed being around the guy.

            Still, Louis never imagined he would be taking anyone to a _carnival_ , especially when the chances of him getting laid afterwards were very, very slim. Non-existent probably. Yet, here he was, playing some stupid money-sucking carnival game for the fifth time in a row, trying to win the sparkly stuffed unicorn that Harry had been eyeing. (And really…what?)

            Louis felt as if his entire face must be red from embarrassment-one, because he was there in the first place and two because he was epically failing at this stupid game, but Harry didn’t seem embarrassed at all as he jumped around, cheering Louis on at the top of his lungs and yelling and clapping, even when Louis’ aim was so bad he contemplated throwing himself into the ocean to rid himself of the shame.

            Finally, on the seventh try, Louis won. He gave a quiet sigh of relief, but Harry screamed, jumping into Louis’ arms as the lady at the booth tried to keep her face neutral while retrieving the unicorn. Louis’ breath was quite literally taken away, but rationalized that it was because a 6’0 body was just thrown on him with full force.

            Harry insisted on carrying his new unicorn around the carnival, but eventually had to give into Louis’ offer of simply putting it in his car, as he couldn’t take it on any rides.

            “What if someone breaks in to steal it?” he asked with a pout as he watched Louis place it carefully in the backseat and close the door.

            “I am a bit insulted that you apparently think the most valuable thing in my car is a stuffed unicorn,” Louis said. Harry smiled.

            “It’s a rare and adored species, you know.”

            “I really think it will be okay, Curly.”

            The nickname made Harry laughe and he dropped the subject, dragging Louis over to a spinney ride that looked absolutely murderous.

            Despite the fact that Louis felt juvenile and there were paps and fans alike snapping pictures of him and Harry, Louis was having a good time and the day went fast. Before they knew it, it was dark.

            “Think we should get going soon?” Louis asked, throwing away the now-empty bag of popcorn he’d been sharing with Harry.

            “Yeah, I guess,” Harry said, seeming a little deflated. He perked up quickly, though, grabbing onto the top of Louis’ arm as he asked, “Can we ride the ferris wheel first though? Pleeeease?!”

            Louis froze. Riding a ferris wheel in the dark seemed a bit romantic to him, but when he looked in Harry’s eyes, all he saw was excited innocence, just like when they’d been ballroom dancing in the middle of the club. This meant absolutely nothing to Harry, and Louis’ warped mind was making a big deal out of nothing at all.

            “We can ride the ferris wheel,” Louis allowed. Harry beamed, pulling Louis away.

            Once on the ride, Louis realized that he had most definitely been worried for no reason. There was nothing romantic about going up and down, around and around, in a hard, uncomfortable seat with a friend while children screamed from surrounding carts. Still, it felta bit intense to him, and he couldn’t stop staring at Harry, his pale skin and bright eyes contrasting beautifully with the dark and glowing with the ferris wheel lights and the stars above.

            Louis blushed at his own thoughts, only then able to peel his eyes away from the man sitting next to him. Still, it didn’t really mean anything. Harry was a _model_. His beauty was meant to be admired. There was nothing weird going on here. Not at all.

            After they left the carnival, neither Harry nor Louis were particularly ready to end the night, so Harry suggested going to a club. Now _that_ was right in Louis’ comfort zone, so he agreed.

            The two had only been to a club together once, and it had been quite enjoyable, even if Harry had gotten too drunk to clearly remember it all. This time was different. Harry drank _more_ , and he didn’t stop there. While he’d stayed close to Louis the first time, Louis now found himself constantly losing the boy, eventually finding him with groups of B-list actors and socialites, snorting lines of who knows what off of tables and popping little pills into his mouth. And it was terrifying.

            Louis tried to tell himself to just relax. He wasn’t one to go light on the alcohol himself, and he’d even dabbled in drugs some (though not much as it was a sure-fire way to prematurely end his career). Still, he had no problem with people who wanted to use drugs recreationally.

            The problem was, he supposed, this seemed to be more than recreation for Harry. While he’d seemed to be having fun at first, now he just seemed desperate, eyes wide and blank as he drifted further and further into oblivion.

So, yeah, Louis was worried. So worried that he couldn’t even let himself get properly drunk-or tipsy, even-because Harry might need him.

_Harry is a grown man_ , Louis tried to tell himself, and while that was true, he couldn’t help but think that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Harry could take care of himself, he rationalized, but was that really true?

            It wasn’t his problem, Louis tried half-heartedly to reason with himself. Harry was choosing to do this stuff on his own. He wanted to do it, so he was, and Louis should drink enough to lose himself for a while, like he wanted to, but he just couldn’t. He was afraid to think what that meant.

            _Maybe you’re just becoming older and more mature_ , a voice in Louis’ head supplied, and he didn’t know if he’d used reverse psychology on himself or what, but that thought scared him enough to allow him to drink a little more.

           


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis has an epiphany; several, in fact

            Louis crashed at Harry and Gemma’s house that night because he’d left his car there, and even though he hadn’t gotten drunk, he probably shouldn’t press his luck by driving home while exhausted.

            Harry had passed out on the way back to his place, barely even waking when Louis shook him roughly to tell him to get out of the cab. Once he did manage to stumble out, he fell onto the ground, immediately curling in on himself and losing consciousness once again.

            Deciding it would be easier to just carry him in, Louis took a couple minutes awkwardly positioning Harry on his back. He wasn’t heavy, but he was tall, and Louis thanked the heavens above after he’d used Harry’s key to get into the house and made it to the top of the stairs without harming either one of them.

There was only one open door and after peeking in and seeing the sparkly unicorn from the carnival, Louis came to the conclusion that it was Harry’s room. Louis entered, making his way to the bed and laying Harry down on his side with his head turned, just in case he were to vomit in his unconscious state. After taking off the other man’s shoes and placing them neatly at the end of the bed, Louis fetched the trashcan from the corner and put it by the bed. Taking a deep breath, Louis moved his eyes back to Harry, who hadn’t budged an inch. He supposed he would be alright now, though he was nervous to go to sleep himself.

Stalling, Louis searched the house until he found an extra blanket to place over Harry. The man still hadn’t moved, except for his mouth slacking open a bit more, and Louis used a tissue to wipe some drool off his face which, what the fuck. He must be going through some knight in shining armor crisis or something, which wasn’t fair to him or Harry because he would never love Harry. Not in the slightest.

            “Night, Curly,” Louis said, obviously receiving no reply, before turning off the light and making a bed on the floor for himself.

            He was woken the next morning, none to his surprise, by a vicious retching sound. That really wasn’t anything new to him. It happened often if he happened to crash at a friend’s place after a wild night or vice versa. Instead of rolling over and going back to sleep like he usually did, though, Louis swung himself off the couch and hurried to the bathroom where he heard the sounds coming from.

            The door wasn’t shut, and Harry was on his knees, leaning halfway over the toilet and looking completely miserable.

            “Are you okay?” Louis asked, walking over to place a semi-cool hand on the back of Harry’s neck.

            “What did I take last night?” Harry asked, voice shaky yet incredulous. Louis let out a humorless laugh.

            “Just about everything, I believe.”

            Harry groaned, but cut it short. Louis braced himself, and after a few moments of being still, Harry quickly ducked his head further down, the vomiting beginning again. Louis knew he should be grossed out, and as he held the longer bits of Harry’s hair away from his face, speaking soothing words in the softest voice he could muster, he kind of did want to throw up himself, but it wasn’t because of the other’s illness. It was because, as he saw the misery that was the model before him, his heart clenched painfully and he came to a realization. He was in love with Harry Styles. Harry, who he’d just met a few nights ago. Harry, who Louis knew was in a committed relationship; who was currently expelling his insides into a toilet bowl after a night where Louis witnessed the full mess of a man the model could be. And Louis was in love with him.

            And fuck.

            “You good for now?” Louis asked, voice a lot weaker than he imagined it would be, once Harry had stopped throwing up and sat up straighter.

            “Yeah, I think so,” the other guy said.

            “Alright. Let’s get you back to bed.”

            Harry flushed the toilet and stood, almost falling over, but Louis grabbed onto his waist and held on. He kept ahold of him as Harry rinsed his mouth in the sink and then led him back to bed. Harry fell asleep fast, Louis gently playing with his hair as he drifted off and then, suffocating, Louis took that opportunity to flee downstairs.

            “Good morning!” Gemma greeted from the breakfast bar. “It sounds like you and Harry are having a lovely morning.”

            “He overindulged a bit last night,” Louis explained.

            “Yes, he tends to do that,” Gemma said with a frown before putting her almost always present smile back on her face. “There’s a pot of fresh tea if you would like some.”

            “I would love some, thank you.”

            Louis poured himself a cup and took a seat next to his friend.

            “Something’s bothering you,” the woman noted after a minute of silence, and Louis started.

            “What?”

            “What’s wrong with the Tommo?” Gemma asked, knocking her foot against Louis’ playfully. He gave a small smile that he knew fell flat before rubbing his eyes.

            “It’s nothing…it’s…just…”

            Pausing, Louis took a breath, gathering his thoughts better before continuing.

            “What did you mean when you said Niall and Harry were having issues?”

            Gemma’s eyes lit with understanding and for a minute, Louis thought she was going to scold him for doing exactly what she told him not to; for falling in love with her brother. Instead, she answered his question.

            “Well, it’s more like Harry having issues and Niall not knowing what to do about it.”

            Louis stared, still confused, so Gemma sighed, preparing herself to explain.

            “Harry is really insecure, if you haven’t noticed already, and it’s really no surprise. He’s been through a lot, Louis. _A lot._ He’s always been the affectionate type, looking for a love he’s never felt. I love him, of course. He’s my baby brother and I’d do anything for him. But it’s never been enough.”

            “But he has Niall,” Louis said. “If love is what he’s looking for, shouldn’t he be happy now?”

            “You see, one of Harry’s problems is that he expects, or at least wants, everything to stay like a fairytale forever. He can’t handle it when things get sticky, even though, a lot of the time, it’s only like that in his head.

            ‘Niall being away on tour is hard for him because he’s been left and abandoned so many times, and that’s what he’s reminded of. He tries to detach himself, to protect himself, but it always just ends up worse. He becomes self-destructive. Niall doesn’t always know how to handle that. He’s good for him, Louis, he really is, and he tries so hard to get Harry to love himself, but it’s difficult, and he gets frustrated. Sometimes, that leads to a fight.”

            “Well maybe Harry should be with someone who understands,” Louis said, hoping Gemma wasn’t able to detect the bitterness in his voice. He wasn’t sure if she did or not, but one of her eyebrows shot up.

            “Who in the world could understand that though?”

            Louis didn’t answer because he didn’t know. He wanted to believe he would understand, but would he really? Watching Harry let himself get trashed last night was hard. What if he was like that all the time? Could Louis handle that?

            “Why are you asking anyway?” Gemma filled the silence, and her question made heat rise to Louis’ face.

            “No reason,” he answered with a wave of his hand, hopping down from the bar stool and placing his cup in the dishwasher. “Thanks for the tea. See you later.”

            “Bye,” Gemma said, voice full of worried confusion as Louis headed out the door.

            Before he’d even reached his car, Louis had come to a conclusion. He was never going to talk to Harry Styles again. Who was he to think Niall wasn’t good enough for Harry? He basically knew nothing of the situation. He didn’t know Niall. Hell, he barely even knew Harry. All he did know was that their relationship was fairly new. He wasn’t sure of how long they’d been together exactly, but remembered hearing about it from the media only a few months ago.

            Besides, it wasn’t like Louis could treat Harry any better anyway. Even if he did love him, he didn’t really know _how_ to love. Niall probably loved him; was maybe even good at it. So that was that. Keeping up his and Harry’s friendship or whatever this was would just hurt both of them, so Louis was done.

            After reaching that epiphany, Louis really shouldn’t have gotten so angry when one of Niall’s songs came on the radio while he was driving home. There was absolutely no reason he should feel such hatred towards the singer; hatred he 100% pretended he didn’t feel.

 

            Louis was doing really well in his don’t-talk-to-Harry mission. It was night and he hadn’t called or texted him all day, even though he desperately wanted to ask the guy if he was feeling better; if he was drinking plenty of water. But he didn’t, and he was proud.

Then Harry called and, just as if he were a lovesick puppy, Louis answered on the first ring.

            “Harry, hey. How are you?”

            From the other end of the line, Harry’s breath hitched and Louis could tell he was crying before he even said anything.        

            “He doesn’t love me!” he exclaimed, and Louis furrowed his brow.

            “What?”

            “Niall…”

            A surge of anger coursed through Louis.

            “Why do you say that? What happened?”

            Harry paused, taking a few hiccupped breaths before letting out a sob.

            “Harry? What did he do?” Louis asked, forcing his fist to unclench.

            “Somehow people found out about last night. About…what I was doing. I hadn’t done that stuff in _so long_ , Louis. I mean, yeah, I’ve drank maybe too much still, but I hadn’t touched drugs since he and I got together…until last night. He wasn’t mad, he was worried, and he said he loves me and wants me healthy, but then…”

            “Then?” Louis prodded when Harry trailed off.

            “He called me Josh!”

            “He called you Josh,” Louis repeated with a frown, feeling as if he were missing some information.

            “Yeah.”

            “Sorry, but…who’s Josh?”

            “His ex-boyfriend!”

            Though he hadn’t stopped crying at all during their conversation, Louis could tell he started crying harder then, his heart breaking all over again.

            “Shit,” Louis unintelligibly said because what else was there to say?”

            “ _And_ Josh is part of his band. They’re touring together _right now_. He’s still in love with him, Louis. Always has been, and he’s never once loved me.”

            “I’m coming over, Harry, alright?” Louis said, because he wasn’t really sure what to do, but thought company-not being alone-might help.

            “Okay.”

 

            By the time Louis had reached the guy’s house, it was clear he had been drinking again, and tears were still pouring out of his pretty green eyes. Part of Louis felt that Harry was being dramatic. Slips of the tongue happened all the time and didn’t necessarily mean anything. But the bigger part of Louis knew that Harry really wasn’t being dramatic at all. His heart had already been in bits and pieces, and now, the pieces were even further damaged; maybe even missing altogether.

            “Oh, Harry,” Louis said softly, pulling the other closer, not letting go until Harry pulled away, long after he’d soaked Louis’ neck in tears.

            “I _hate_ love!” Harry ranted, marching away to grab a half empty bottle of wine from the coffee table and taking a big drink from it. “Why do I even have to love?! Like, clearly it’s impossible for anyone to love _me_ , so shouldn’t I at least be able to not feel like this?! This hurts, Louis! I want to die!”

            “Shh, no,” Louis hushed, rushing over to gently take the bottle from Harry and set it back down. “You’re heart broken right now, Harry, but it will get better.”

            “No it won’t!” Harry shrieked, throwing his hands up frantically in the air. “I keep thinking things will get better too, but they keep getting worse! It should be impossible, but it just keeps getting so much worse.”

            “Come here,” Louis said gently, pulling Harry down on the couch with him. He was truly at a loss, having no idea how to make this broken boy even the tiniest bit whole, so he just let him lay with almost his full weight on top of him, crying into Louis’ shirt and holding onto his hand tightly. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but eventually Harry managed to fall asleep and so Louis didn’t dare move. Though his legs were half numb and he worried a bit that he would have to have them amputated in the morning, Louis eventually fell asleep too, not waking up until the next morning.

            Sometime during the night, Harry had moved, saving Louis’ legs. He was still close, though, tucked into Louis’ side with his hand resting on the other’s stomach. Louis smiled down at him, shutting his eyes to try to get a little more rest, before he realized that he hadn’t woken on his own accord. There was a pounding coming from the front door. Harry remained oblivious, and Louis was about to just let it go-it wasn’t his house after all-but then realized that he hadn’t heard Gemma come in last night. Perhaps she’d had a late night and forgotten her key or something.

            Sighing softly, Louis made his way away from Harry gently. The model whimpered at the loss of contact, curling up on himself instantly just like when he’d passed out on the ground the other night and, frowning, Louis forced himself to go answer the door.

            He wished he’d just ignored it.

            “Where’s Harry?” a blonde guy that Louis recognized as Niall Horan asked after rudely giving Louis a disapproving once-over. Raising an annoyed eyebrow, Louis shifted to the side so he could see around him to the man sleeping on the couch. Niall sighed, taking in the wine bottle on the coffee table, and then looking back to Louis, noting his wrinkled clothes and messed up hair.

            “Did you fuck my boyfriend?” he asked and…well, Louis hadn’t expected that.

            “No!” he exclaimed after he’d composed himself enough to move his mouth, which had nearly dropped to the ground at the question. Niall just gave him a look. Louis huffed.

            “Even if I _did_ , which I didn’t, emotional cheating is just as bad as physical cheating, so maybe you should think of that next time you secretly pretend Harry is your ex-boyfriend. Mmmk?”

            Niall’s entire face dropped and Louis felt smug.

            “Right then,” he said, moving around Niall and storming to his car. His smugness faded a bit as he realized he’d left his shoes inside, but instead of going back, he continued his defiant march to his car, ignoring the sting of the pavement on his bare feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Nooooow we're getting somewhere! (Sorry about that. Usually I go way too fast and this time I feel like I'm going way too slow :p) 
> 
> Also, 
> 
> ***MINI SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!***
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> a new character will be introduced next chapter! Yaaaaay!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry kind of pimps Louis out. Louis kind of really doesn't mind.

            “Louis?!” Harry gasped, sitting up quickly as his half-conscious mind belatedly registered the sound of a door closing.

            “Oh, was that what his name was?” a voice, not Louis’, asked, and Harry snapped his neck to the end of the couch, where Niall was standing, looking part angry, part sad and a lot nervous.

            “Um…yes…,” Harry said, biting his lip as he stared at the other guy. Niall’s face softened a bit.

            “He just left.”

            “Oh.”

            Harry cast his eyes downward then, feeling a little uncomfortable at the intensity of the singer’s stare.

            “He left his shoes.”

            “He did,” Niall agreed, an amused expression taking form on his face. Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering if there was something he was missing, but stayed quiet as Niall took a seat by his feet. Harry moved, swinging his legs down to give him more room and held his breath until Niall sighed, finally deciding to speak again.

            “I’m sorry, Harry.”

            His voice was soft and sincere, apology written all over his face as he locked eyes with the model again.

            “I’m so, so sorry. It was an honest mistake. You are nothing like my ex, babe. Nothing.”

            “Do you wish I was?”

            Harry’s voice was soft too, but laced with fear. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he needed to. If not, his heart would keep hoping that it really was just a mistake; that Niall loved him and not Josh.

            “No!” the singer said, much to Harry’s surprise. His breath caught in his throat. “No, Haz, I love _you._ I love you the way you are. I…I’m in love with you, Harry.”

            Still barely breathing, Harry’s eyes nearly popped from his skull. Niall had called him ‘love’ before. They’d even exchanged a few casual ‘I love you’s’. But this….this was entirely different. This was everything Harry wanted to hear and never thought he would.

            “You…what?” he asked, almost convinced his ears had played a nasty trick on him. The corners of Niall’s mouth twitched up and he scooted closer, taking Harry’s bigger hand in his own, kissing the top of it.

            “I’m so in love with you, Harry Styles, and I’m sorry I’m such an idiot sometimes. I’m sorry-”

            “Sh,” Harry interrupted, placing a finger on Niall’s lips. “Say it again.”

            Niall smiled, kissing the finger still shushing him before taking that hand as well. “I’m in love with you. I only want to be with you, always, and I’m sorry I made you feel differently, but I’m in love with you. Just you.”

            Taking his hands back, Harry wrapped his arms around Niall’s neck and Niall held him tightly. With that one little sentence, all was forgiven. All was perfect.

 

            “You forgot your shoes when you left this morning.”

            “Did I? I hadn’t realized.”

            Either the sarcasm went over Harry’s head or he chose to ignore it.

            “Do you need them right away?” Harry asked from the other end of the line. It had taken all day for Louis to hear from him, which he supposed meant all was going well with Niall. Wonderful. That was wonderful. It was what Harry wanted and Louis should be happy for him; _was_ happy for him. He was.

            Finally, Harry had called to confirm that yes, everything between him and his Irish singer boyfriend were a-okay. Spectacular, even. Great. Terrific.

            “No,” Louis answered the guy’s question. “It’s not an emergency or anything.”

            In fact, since Louis was probably never leaving the house again, he had no use for shoes. He should just tell Harry to burn them or keep them as a reminder of him for when he wasted away, a lonely old man.

            No, Louis was not being dramatic. Learning that his heart could feel things such as ‘love’ had been possibly the most devastating thing to happen to him ever. He’d been so careful for _so_ long, and now, it seemed like it had been pointless. Louis’ life was a lie.

            “Meet me for lunch tomorrow,” Harry said, completely oblivious to Louis’ internal turmoil. “I’ll give them back to you then.”

            Before the athlete could even think of a good reason to say no-a reason he could admit out loud, at least-Harry spoke again.

            “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

            “Harry Styles!” Louis exclaimed, false shock in his voice. “Are you trying to play Cupid?”

            “No. I know you don’t fall for people like that.”

            Louis snorted. Oh, how much had changed in the few days since he’d made that declaration.

            “My mate just went through a messy break-up and could use some no strings attached rebound sex is all.”

            After a pause, the man added, “He’s really fit.”

            “Oh, so you’re pimping me out,” Louis said with a laugh.

            “Is that terrible?” Harry asked, but there was a smile in his voice.

            “No,” Louis admitted. “I would love to meet your fit friend.”

            It appeared that Louis needed some rebound sex as well.

 

            Louis arrived at the restaurant two minutes late, not wanting to seem too eager, but only found Harry waiting for him at the table.

            “Have I been stood up on the very first date?” Louis asked, making sure to lather his voice with hurt. Harry smiled at him, shaking his head.

            “Zayn will be here soon. His class ran over.”

            _Zayn_. Louis decided the name was very fuckable. So far, so good.

            “Oh, so he’s a student then?” Louis asked, taking a sip of the water sitting in front of him.

            “He’s a professor at university, actually. Teaches art.”

            “Interesting,” Louis said. He supposed it was.

            Zayn arrived about five minutes later and Louis took in his appearance; naturally tan skin, raven black hair, almond shaped brown eyes, scruff, a lean body, arms covered in tattoos…

Yes, Louis decided that _Zayn_ was very fuckable indeed.

            “Hey, gorgeous,” Harry greeted, standing to give his friend a hug and kiss on the cheek.

            “Hey, babes. How are you?”

            “I’m fine. How are you?”

            “Alright.”

            Zayn and Harry both sat and the new arrival locked eyes with Louis, smiling.

            “Hi, I’m Zayn.”

            “Louis.”

            There was a moment where both boys gave the other an appreciative once-over, smiles growing wider. Harry watched them, smiling himself.

            As it turned out, Zayn and Louis got on pretty well. Conversation never fell short. Neither did the eye sex. Harry sat back through most of it, looking amused and highly proud of himself.

            Louis found out that Zayn was also ‘sometimes’ a part-time photographer and that was how he and Harry had met; he having done the model’s very first portfolio when he moved to LA. Though nothing was confirmed, Louis got the feeling that something had gone on between the two once upon a time. It was a nice mental image.

            Zayn happened to know who Louis was already, though he couldn’t have said what team he was on if his life depended on it. Louis explained that England was still his main home, but he was staying in LA for the off season since the weather was much more enjoyable.

            All three went back to Zayn’s after lunch to drink and watch television, though not much attention was actually paid since they decided it would be a wonderful idea to start a game of ‘Never Have I Ever.’ Harry stayed pretty sober, apparently having done almost everything, including having sex with someone whose gender he was still unsure of. Zayn thought that was the funniest thing in the world, rolling around on the floor as he cackled (he may have been a bit tipsy), and Louis decided he really liked his laugh. He was just about to throw caution to the wind and offer up a threesome, unable to wait any longer (Harry, Zayn and a sexual game were too much for anyone to handle, alright?) but then Harry got a text.

            “Well, lads,” he said after opening and reading the message. “I’ll leave you to do whatever it is you want to do now. Niall is headed to the studio, so I think I’m going to tag along. Apparently, he has a new song for me!”

Louis’ face fell just a bit, but Harry was oblivious, crawling over to plant kisses on both of his friends’ cheeks before getting to his feet, saying a cheerful goodbye and heading out the door. Louis watched him go before feeling a set of eyes on him and turning to find Zayn staring. He made sure to turn his own face into an ornery smirk, but Zayn seemed to see right through it.

            “Do you like Harry?” he asked.

            “Of course I like Harry,” Louis said nonchalantly. “He’s a great lad.”

            Louis knew that wasn’t what Zayn meant, but he let the topic go as Louis crawled over and straddled him, taking his God-like beauty in one more time before leaning down to leave several love bites on the other guy’s neck.

            After fooling around a bit, the two lay on the floor in silence, mindlessly watching TV while they let themselves sober up. Eventually, they got hungry again and Zayn made them dinner before setting off to the movies. Normally, it would feel a bit too intimate for Louis, but he was comfortable with Zayn-in a safe way-and besides, after the movies, the two headed to the club, where they both got spectacularly plastered and even stooped as low as to do a few adult-rated things in the bathroom, which Louis always thought he had too much class for, but what was class when this creature that called himself Zayn was touching your body? Louis didn’t think he could be faulted for that.

            The fun continued even once they arrived-finally-back to Zayn’s place, and Louis didn’t even think it was possible to be pleasured so much in one night, but there he was.

            _Where have you been all my life?_ Louis almost asked Zayn once they eventually came down for the night. Instead, he swung himself off the bed and began getting dressed. Usually, Louis was chastised for how quickly he fled after a night like that, but Zayn simply watched him dress with tired, yet content, eyes, only looking way from Louis to retrieve a cigarette from his nightstand and light it.

            “Do you want me to call you a cab?” he spoke eventually, lips pursing as he blew out smoke. Louis had to look away, reminding his body that it had had quite enough for one night.

            “Nah, I’ve got it. It was nice meeting you and…things.”

            Zayn laughed and with a quick smile, Louis left, opting to wait outside for his ride home.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going well for Harry. He doesn't quite know how to handle that.

            “Why is this happening to me?! I mean, _really!_ Why is this bloody happening to me?!”

            “Harry,” Zayn said sternly. “I think you’re freaking out over nothing.”

            “How can you say that to me, Zayn?! This is a disaster!”

            It was the next day; the day after Louis and Zayn had met, and Harry had invited them both over for lunch. It was a Saturday, which meant Zayn didn’t have classes, and Louis of course had nothing, so they both agreed. Upon receiving the invitation, Louis had assumed it was going to be a nice little luncheon between three friends; that perhaps Harry wanted details of what had happened after he’d left. He certainly did not expect to walk in on Harry mid panic attack, and he never would have guessed the reason being that Niall wanted to take him to Ireland to meet his family.

            “I just don’t see what the problem is here,” Zayn said. “I thought you wanted a serious relationship? This shows that Niall is serious.”

            “I don’t know how to act around parents!” Harry exclaimed. “Shit, Zayn, my _own_ parents couldn’t even tolerate me enough to stick around, so how are his parents not going to hate me?!”

            Louis frowned. He knew Gemma and Harry’s childhoods had been unconventional, but he didn’t know the details. Who in the world could possibly _not_ want to be around the beautiful being that was Harry Styles?

            “You’re parents are douches,” Zayn said, unfiltered. “Just because they didn’t know how to be parents doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”

            “But I _know_ something’s wrong with me! There are a lot of things wrong with me!”

Zayn sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Harry, you’re a great guy. Niall is lucky to have you. He knows that, and so he just wants to show you off! If his parents don’t see that, then there’s something wrong with _them_.”

It was Harry’s turn to sigh then as he sunk down into his chair. Zayn and Louis were already sitting, having started to eat before Harry’s complete meltdown, and Louis scooted the salad closer to the other guy, who looked at it strangely before shaking his head.

            “I have a show tomorrow,” he said as a means of explaining.

            “So?” Louis asked.                                                    

            “I never eat the day before a show.”

            “That sounds problematic.”

            Harry shrugged. “That’s the life of a model.”

            Louis wasn’t sure how accurate that statement was, but he remained silent, deciding to keep his worries in for now.

            Once Zayn and Louis had finished eating, they sat down with Harry to play video games before deciding to go for a swim in Harry’s pool.

            “I don’t think I have any swim trunks that will fit either of you,” Harry had said.

            “That’s quite alright,” Louis had assured him. “I can’t speak for Zayn, but I did decide to wear underwear today.”

            “Or, you know, we can swim naked,” Zayn added with a wink. Louis had liked that idea, but Harry shot it down, so he and Zayn were stuck wading in their boxers, Harry in shorts and a T-shirt.

            Harry was kind enough to let his guests lounge in towels after that while their undergarments dried, though he stayed far away from the pair’s nearly naked cuddle session.

            Later, once Zayn and Louis were dressed again, Harry finally decided it was safe to get close, and they all huddled together tightly on the sofa, some comedy movie that they’d found playing on the television. It actually was pretty funny, but Harry seemed not to be paying attention at all.

            “I’ll be back,” he said about halfway through, and the other boys reluctantly moved their legs to let him up, scooting even closer together once he was gone.

            Twenty minutes passed and Harry had yet to return. Louis’ attention on the movie had dwindled at that point, worry for Harry overtaking everything.

            “I should check on him,” Louis announced. Zayn nodded, moving to let the other man up, and Louis nervously made his way upstairs, where he’d seen Harry disappear earlier.

            It didn’t take Louis long to find him, sitting on the floor of the bathroom Louis had made his recent Earth-shattering realization in. It was not the time to get sentimental, however, as Harry was hugging his knees, head down as he cried.

            “Harry,” Louis said, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder as he kneeled in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

            “It’s going to be a disaster!” Harry cried, still not looking up. “Everything will go all wrong, and he’ll leave me!”

            Louis assumed he was back to the subject of the impending Ireland trip, and held in a sigh.

            “Why don’t you just tell Niall that you don’t want to go if you’re this stressed about it?”

            “But I do want to go!”

            Louis frowned, resisting the urge to squeeze the bridge of his nose tightly.

            “Okay, I’m confused,” he admitted.

            “Why do I have to be like this?!” Harry basically shrieked, snapping his head up as more tears fell, and Louis jumped at the suddenness of it all. He fish mouthed for a moment, at a loss of what to say, but then Zayn rushed in, saving him.

            “Hey, Haz, come on,” he said gently but firmly, putting his arms around Harry and pulling him up. Harry simply sniffled, letting himself be led downstairs without another word. Louis followed, terrified and heart broken. He’d known right from the beginning that Harry was sad. Quickly, he’d learned that he could even be considered broken. But knowing was one thing. Seeing it and feeling like there was nothing he could do was another. He wished he didn’t care. How could he let himself care so much?

            Zayn sat Harry in his place at the breakfast bar and then began quickly making tea. None of them spoke. Louis was afraid to; afraid that one wrong word would set off the time bomb beside him.

            Harry began sipping his tea once Zayn placed it in front of him, but stopped almost right away, setting it down and folding his hands together as he glared at Zayn.

            “You put sugar in this,” he accused.

            “You needed something, Haz. You’re losing it,” Zayn said, sounding sympathetic, but not sorry.

            “I’m going to blow up like a balloon!” Harry exclaimed, exasperated. “I’ll look terrible on the runway tomorrow and I’ll get fired! Is that what you want?!”

            “That won’t happen,” Zayn said, “but maybe you should start looking into other options anyway. You’re not healthy like this, Harry.”

            “There are no other options,” the model muttered, resting his cheek on his hand. I’m too stupid and pathetic to do anything else.”

            “You’re not stupid or pathetic,” Louis spoke, unable to stay quiet any longer. Harry didn’t even make any indication that he heard him.

            “Haz…,” Zayn said slowly, eyes narrowed as he studied the other man. “Have you stopped taking your medication again?”

            Still, Harry stayed silent, drawn into himself. Zayn sighed.

            “You can’t do that, man. Where are they?”

            “I flushed them.”

            “Why did you do that?”

            “Because I was happy!”

            Harry’s voice had risen again, frantic.

“I have no reason to be sad,” Harry continued even as he blinked furiously, fighting off tears. “I have Niall, and he’s amazing. I want to be strong for Niall! I don’t want to have to be medicated!”

            “You _are_ strong,” Zayn said, voice much less stern than it had been. “You’re stronger than I think you’ll ever realize, babe. It’s okay if you need a little help. Niall just wants you healthy. We all do.”

            There was a moment where no one said anything again. Harry was chewing his lip, a new stream of tears threatening to start any moment, while Zayn and Louis watched him, worried.

            “Have you done anything recently, Haz?”

            Louis didn’t really know what they were talking about, but he had a bad feeling about it anyway.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry seemed to voice Louis’ thoughts out loud, but Zayn sighed.

            “The doctor’s office is closed today, obviously, but I’m going to try to get ahold of somebody. You need your medicine.”

            That was when the tears began again.

            “Why won’t people just let me self-destruct?!” he asked, sounding devastated by the fact that Zayn was trying to help him.

            “Because we love you,” he answered simply. Harry’s lip quivered.

            “No you don’t. No one does.”

            “Oh, stop being dramatic,” Zayn said, but his voice was soft and he pulled Harry into a tight hug, giving Louis a sad look as he took in his still scared face.

            “I’m going to lie down,” Harry spoke again after a minute, pushing gently off of Zayn. The other boys nodded, watching as he went and collapsed on the couch.

            “I’m going to call his doctor’s private line,” Zayn spoke quietly. “They should send in another prescription and I’ll go pick it up. Stay with him, yeah?”

            Louis nodded. Though Zayn didn’t say it, he had the feeling that leaving Harry by himself was a bad idea. Not that he would dream of leaving anyway. Maybe eventually he’d figure out some way to help instead of sitting there, useless.

 

            When Zayn returned, he made sure Harry took the pill, checking under his tongue and everything. Harry had calmed by then, if not for the mere fact that he’d worn himself out, and the boys spent the rest of the day huddled close, as if trying to keep the youngest together with their bodies.

            By the next morning, Harry seemed to have it together emotionally. He was up before either of the other two, cooking them breakfast with a small smile on his face. Louis felt like he was going to get whiplash.

            “Can’t you just eat a little bit?” Louis nearly begged as he and Zayn sat to eat. Harry shook his head.

            “If I eat now, I’ll look and feel disgusting tonight and it needs to be perfect. It’s my first show in a couple months and I want to make my comeback good.”

            Louis was about to argue, but Zayn gave a slight shake of his head, so, with a sigh, he reluctantly dropped the subject. That didn’t keep him form worrying, of course, and he wished he could fast forward time so it would be after the show and he could shove food down the model’s throat without guilt. As it was, he didn’t know how he was going to work the runway when he seemed to get light-headed every time he stood.

 

            “Alright,” Louis spoke later as Zayn, who was photographing the event, and Harry began preparing to leave. “I guess I’ll head out so you two can get going. Good luck and have fun. Curly, I don’t want to hear that you fainted and fell off the catwalk or anything, you hear?”

            “You’re not coming?” Harry asked with a frown.

            “Well…no…,” Louis said, awkwardly shifting on his feet. “I don’t have a ticket or whatever. I’d love to see you strut your stuff, but-”

            “I have an extra ticket,” Harry said, voice unsure, like he didn’t know if he should be saying any of this. “I was saving it just in case Niall could make it back, but he can’t, so…I mean…I’d love for you to come…you know, if you want.”

            Something about taking Niall’s ticket made Louis feel a certain smugness and he fought to hide his smirk. _This isn’t about you, Tomlinson,_ he mentally scolded himself. _You’re going to support a friend. That’s it._

“In that case, I guess I’m going then,” Louis said with a smile as he threw an arm around Harry’s neck. The taller guy looked down at him and beamed.

            “Great! And then afterwards, we can go out and you can make me eat whatever you want! I promise!”

            “Oh, I was planning on that already, Curls.”

            “‘Curls,’” Harry repeated, smiling as he shook his head. Louis’ heart swelled, he swore it did.

 

            Louis figured Harry was a great model. He’d never actually seen him ‘walk’ before, but how _couldn’t_ he be good when he looked like that? Still, as he watched the model come out on the runway again and again, he was amazed. Harry was mesmerizing, looking like a very pretty Ken doll as he showed off outfit after outfit. Still, as beautiful of a site as he was, Louis couldn’t help but feeling a bit sad too. He worked the runway expressionless, as most models did, but it was so un-Harry. It was as if he was _trying_ to make himself look doll-like; prim, proper and lovely, with no emotions to complicate the outside beauty. That was all these strangers saw. Harry wasn’t a person to them. They didn’t know-couldn’t fathom-the chaos inside. They didn’t know that what Harry was doing to please them; how he was abusing himself, was possibly killing him.

            Louis just wanted to pick Harry up and carry him away.

 

            Harry felt much better after the show; better than he’d felt in a long time, if he was being honest. Maybe it was the pill, but he was sure it also had to do with the looks he got while on the runway. So many in the audience were looking at him as if he were beautiful, as if they’d give anything to be with him or even _be_ him. They thought he was worth something. But Harry didn’t want to let his ego get too big because he knew that wasn’t true. Those people only saw his carefully altered shell. Still, he could pretend for a while, because right now it felt real.

            Of course, maybe he was mistaking light-headedness for elation. He had felt fine during the chaos of outfit changes, cheers and flashing lights, but now that his part was over and he could finally relax, he realized that the lights were just a little too bright; the room not quite steady enough to keep him walking in a straight line.

            _This is pathetic, Styles,_ he told himself as he stopped to get a drink of water, trying to clear his head. As he leaned against the wall, sipping his drink, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, having already changed back into his regular clothes. He smiled when he saw Niall’s name lighting up at him.

            _Hey, babe. Wish I could have been there tonight. I know you looked beautiful and stole the show! Love you!_

            Smiling, Harry sent a quick, _Love you too xx_. He had just slipped the mobile back in his pocket when he heard his name.

            “Mr. Styles?”

            Harry’s head shot up, causing stars to explode behind his eyes, but he blinked them away and focused on the man in front of him, whose face was contorted in concern.

            “Are you alright?”

            The mystery man was attractive and important looking in his suit that fit tight against his bulging muscles. His wide brown eyes sparkling despite his obvious worry.

            “I’m fine,” Harry assured him, plastering his wide, charming smile on while extending a hand. “Harry Styles. Nice to meet you.”

            “Liam Payne,” the stranger replied, taking Harry’s hand with a kind, cheerful smile, worry immediately wiped off his face. The name was familiar to Harry. Liam Payne was a hot-shot designer, though Harry never would have expected him to be so young. He had never modeled anything of his, but he’d seen plenty of his work and he admired him.  

            “Of course,” Harry said pleasantly. “It’s nice to put a face to the name, Mr. Payne.”

            “I do try to stay out of the limelight as much as possible, if I’m honest,” Liam said with a shrug. Harry nodded in understanding although he was the opposite. He loved the attention.

            “Anyway,” Liam continued, “I don’t want to bother you, as I know you’re busy, but I was hoping we could talk for a few?”

            “Yes, sure,” Harry said because, hey, attention. “Let’s go somewhere quieter, yeah?”

            “That would be great.”

            Harry nodded, pushing himself off the wall with more force than should have been necessary. He thought he held his composure well, but Liam’s face went back to worried, so Harry offered another smile before leading him to a private dressing room.

            _Oh, the rumors that could start if anyone saw_ , Harry thought to himself, but refused to think anything else of it. He was innocent. He wouldn’t take his pants off for anyone but his boyfriend, thank you very much. Not that that was happening either, but…best not to dwell.

            The men took a seat on the couch, Liam’s smile back in place as he studied Harry’s face, judging his attentiveness.

            “I’m listening,” he encouraged. Liam perked up and shifted, both excited and nervous.

            “I recently saw an interview where you mentioned being interested in designing clothes,” Liam began. “The interview was about a year ago, but I was wondering…are you still interested in giving that a go?”          

Harry debated for a moment. He _was_ interested, to be honest. He enjoyed modeling, but he longed to try other things. His low confidence level had kept him from doing that so far, but if the opportunity miraculously arose…

“I would,” he admitted. Liam’s smile became impossibly bigger.

            “That’s fantastic! I also really liked the part of the interview where you talked about designing outfits for the runway that came in bigger sizes. I agree that the runway is not very diverse in terms of body image and I find that sad. Dangerous, even.”

            Maybe Harry was paranoid, but he felt like Liam’s gaze upon him intensified on him at that point, and he swallowed. Yes, probably paranoid.

            “Yeah,” Harry agreed lamely. Liam nodded. Was that sympathy in his eyes?

            “Every year, my team and I gather a few up-and-coming designers. We place them with the permanent, professional members of our team and have them work together to come up with something new and exciting for our fall line; just something to get their names out there a little bit. It would be an honor for you to join us this year.”

            Harry’s mouth very nearly dropped open. The words shouldn’t have really been that much of a surprise, but somehow, they were, and Harry almost panicked. He did want this; didn’t know how much before the possibility had just been sat right in front of him. But _could_ he do it? The last thing he wanted to do was take this chance and destroy it. He tended to destroy things.

            “Harry?” Liam’s voice broke through the buzzing sound in Harry’s head. “You don’t have to decide right now. Honestly. Take your time. I know you have obligations here, but-”

            “I’ll do it,” Harry blurted before either he or Liam could change their minds. “I mean, this is amazing. Thank you.”

            Liam smiled again. “You’re welcome, and thank _you_. It will be a pleasure to work with you, I just know it. However, our office is in New York. We haven’t yet expanded to different areas. Well, we haven’t really needed to…but anyway, I would have to relocate you for a while. I understand you might need to travel, and I am willing to work something out. I have apartments I keep the guest designers in. Separate ones, of course. But if you don’t want to deal with all of that-”

            “It’s fine,” Harry interrupted again. “Really. This is an amazing opportunity, Liam. Thank you.”

            “Well…that’s great then! Here’s my card and do you mind if I get your number? I should know exact dates in the next couple of weeks or so, and I will keep you updated.”

            “Yes, of course.”

            After giving away his phone number and exchanging a few more ‘thank yous’ and such with Liam, the two went their separate ways, a sinking feeling already setting in Harry’s stomach. He was excited, really excited, but nervous. What if he failed? He didn’t want to let Liam down. He didn’t want to let _himself_ down. Not again.

            He was distracted from the stress as he heard his name called again and turned to see a bright-eyed Louis running towards him. Harry smiled.

            “You’re so amazing, Harry!” Louis gushed. “Honestly, you’re…you’re just…wow!”

            Harry laughed. “Thank you. So is the show over?”

            “Yeah. Zayn said he’ll be back here in a minute. He was amazed by you too, you know. You’re just…you’re so stunning. How do you do it?”

            “It’s just a trick of the lights, honestly,” Harry said, but Louis shook his head, disbelieving.

            “You’re full of it. Now, my dear model, it’s time for you to decide where we’re going to go eat. I’m _starving_ , so I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling.”

            “I’m fine, really.” Harry shrugged. He didn’t particularly mind he hunger all that much.

            _Dangerous_.

            “Again…full of it.”

            Harry just smiled and shook his head, pulling Louis in for an awkward, standing kind of cuddle. Everything would be fine. He had his friends, his boyfriend, people who, however mistakenly, thought he was brilliant. And it would be fine. He was almost sure of it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to pull himself together. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Louis and Niall really don't like each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this turned out longer than I imagined. So sorry for that.
> 
> Also, I stole some lyrics from "Little Things" (by One Direction...obviously) because I'm unoriginal.

            “So do you lads want to go house hunting with me?”

            It was the following Saturday-almost a week after Harry’s show and slight mental breakdown-and he was doing alright. At least, alright for Harry. He’d been taking his medicine again like a good boy, and although he was still stressed, nothing seemed too terrible at the moment. Or, more accurately, he could push it all to the back of his mind, usually.

            Currently, he, Zayn and Louis were lying on his bedroom floor, having all just taken a hit of some “medicine” of a different kind. Lazily, Louis pushed himself up onto one arm, slightly pink eyes staring at Harry; the one who had spoken.

            “Why would we need to go house hunting?” he asked.

            “ _You_ don’t need to. I, however, am in need of a new place to live.”

            “Why?” Zayn asked then, sitting up and frowning at his friend in concern. “Everything alright with you and Gems?”

            “Yeah, fine,” Harry answered with a wave of his hand. “It’s just…you guys can’t say anything because they’re keeping it private for now, but she and Ash got engaged.”

            “Really?!” Louis exclaimed. “That’s great!”

“Yeah, it is. I’m so happy for her.”

            “But surely she’s not kicking you out because she’s getting married?” Zayn said.

            “Of course not. Ashton is moving in here, at least temporarily as he doesn’t really have a set place in the States, and they both already told me that that doesn’t change anything, but I really don’t want to live with newlyweds.”

            “Do you need a roommate?” Zayn asked after a moment. Harry raised an eyebrow, turning his head to look him instead of the ceiling.

            “Why…?”

            Zayn shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about moving, is all.”

            “You haven’t mentioned it,” Harry commented, suspicious. “I’m twenty years old, you know. I don’t need a babysitter.”

            That wasn’t exactly true, and Harry knew it, but he didn’t want to exchange being a nuisance to his sister for being a nuisance to one of his best friends.

            “I know,” Zayn humored him. “It’s just…well, I didn’t want to say anything. It’s pathetic, like, but…Perrie was supposed to be moving in with me next month, and now that she’s not, it’s just kind of sad. It doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

            “Awwww, Zaynie!” Harry cooed, scooting his body closer to the man. “In that case, I would love for you to be my roommate. In fact…”

            Harry turned his head to Louis then, smiling. “You should ditch the rental and shack up with us! Only when you’re in LA, of course. It would be fun!”

            “It would be fun,” Louis admitted.

            “Brilliant!” Zayn exclaimed, clapping his hands together, probably not as enthusiastically as he’d intended. “We’ll be just like the Three Musketeers!”

            “The Three Flat-eteers,” Harry joked, and it probably wasn’t a good one, like, at all, but they all erupted into giggles anyway.

            Once they’d sobered up a little, the boys got online to begin their search for a new place of residence. Harry knew he probably wouldn’t be there much at first, what with the Ireland trip and then the New York trip, but he was excited anyway. He was excited for it all, actually.

            Niall had been thrilled when Harry had told him about New York and the designing offer. It wasn’t a secret that the singer hated Harry’s modeling career. He was supportive, but he hated it, and really, Harry couldn’t blame him. He tried to explain that he still had a modeling contract to finish and that nothing may come out of the designing experience, but Niall remained optimistic. He was always optimistic, somehow. Harry loved that about him.

            Niall also seemed happy that Harry and Zayn were moving in together when Harry told him later that night. He was less excited when he found out Louis was moving in too, though Harry didn’t understand why. He supposed the two just hadn’t spent enough time together yet to see how amazing and special they both were. In any case, Niall didn’t voice any unhappiness, so Harry figured it wasn’t really a big deal.

            “Harry…,” Niall’s voice, uncharacteristically soft, sounded from the other end of the line once it seemed the two finally had run out of things to say.

            “Hm?” Harry hummed.

            “Are…um…are you okay?”

            “Of course,” Harry said, frowning. Why would Niall need to ask him that? He wasn’t making him feel inadequate, was he? Harry’s heart rate picked up.

            “I was just checking because, well, it’s sounding like your partying has picked up again.”

            “I’m being faithful, Ni,” Harry assured him, wondering if someone _had_ seen him sneaking off with Liam last week or something.

            “No, I know. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

            “You don’t have to worry about anything. I’m fine.”

            “You sure?”

            “Yes, absolutely.”

            “Okay.”

            Only a small beat of silence passed before Niall spoke again, usual chipperness back in his voice.

            “I love you so much. I can’t wait for you to meet my family.”

            Harry’s stress level rose a bit.

            “What if they don’t like me?” he voiced his fear out loud to his boyfriend for the first time.

            “They will.”    

            His words and tone were confident, and Harry wasn’t quite as certain, but he didn’t argue.

 

            The next day, Zayn, Louis and Harry went to look at a few houses they’d found on the internet the day before. By the end of the day, they were the owners of a brand new flat, and they were all buzzing with excitement. The place wasn’t huge. It was smaller than the place Harry had with Gemma, in fact, but it was beautiful and just perfect. It had three bedrooms, though Harry felt that unnecessary, as he suspected Louis and Zayn would share a bed most nights.

            Things seemed to be going extremely well between those two, and Harry was pleased. They were almost constantly touching and smiling at each other, and it was a different Louis than Harry had ever seen; a freer Louis. Even Zayn was different. With Perrie, his touches had been almost reluctant, like he didn’t know his exact boundaries, even once they were engaged, but with Louis, he didn’t hesitate at all, and when he succeeded in drawing the athlete’s attention to himself, he positively glowed. Maybe they would end up falling in love after all. Harry hoped so. That had kind of been the plan, despite what he’d told Louis. Oh well. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The three spent a rare night apart, so Harry decided to let himself be a bother and join Ashton and Gemma for movie night. While the newly engaged couple cuddled on the couch, he stayed curled in the chair, only half paying attention to what they had on. All in all, he didn’t think he was being very annoying, but then Ashton’s voice pulled him out of his almost trance-like state.

“Harry?”

Harry turned his head, blinking.

“What?” he asked blearily. Ashton titled his head, smiling a little, though over what, Harry didn’t know because all he said was,

“Do you have your phone with you?”

            Feeling into his pocket, Harry realized that no, he did not.

            “I think it’s ringing,” Ashton continued. Straining his ears, Harry heard nothing and was about to say as much when he realized that maybe Ashton just wanted him gone.

            “Oh,” he said, shoulders drooping a little. “Okay.”

            He made his way up to his room, where he’d left his phone earlier, figuring no one would want to get ahold of him for the rest of the night. As he suspected, it wasn’t ringing, but he checked his missed calls anyway, just in case. To his surprise, he did have a missed call, though it wasn’t from a number he recognized. The caller hadn’t left a message, and Harry knew the smart thing to do would be to ignore it, but he rarely did what he knew was smart, so he clicked on the ‘call back’ button.

            “Hello?” a woman, voice accented and cheery, answered.

            “Um…hi,” Harry began. “I just got a call from this number?”

            “Oh, is this Harry?”

            “…Yes…”

            Did some fan somehow find his number? Of course, the woman’s accent was Irish, and Harry wasn’t conceited enough to think he was a worldwide phenomenon, so maybe it was one of Niall’s fans, waiting to tell him off; tell him he wasn’t good enough for their idol.

“Hello, Harry!” the woman said. Well, she didn’t _sound_ angry or jealous, at least. “I’m Niall’s mom, Maura.”

 _Oh_. Harry felt his eyes wide, heart thumping hard. This was possibly worse than a fan. It was Niall’s _mom_ , potentially also waiting to tell him he wasn’t good enough; not good enough for her son.

            “Oh, hi,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice nice and calm. “How are you?”

            “I am just fine. I hope I’m not crossing a line or anything, dear, but I just wanted to tell you how excited we all are to meet you!”

            “Oh,” Harry actually gasped, noting that his shock and relief were audible in his voice. Maura laughed, but it wasn’t teasing or mocking at all; just…soft.

            “Niall told you I was nervous, didn’t he?” Harry asked, embarrassed and endeared at the same time.

            “He may have hinted that that was the case,” the woman said. “But I don’t want you to be nervous, okay? You make our son so happy which means we automatically like you by default.”

            Yep, Harry was definitely blushing now.

            “Thank you,” he managed, smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

            “Of course. Now, I don’t want to bother you, so I’ll let you go. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you soon.”

            “You’re not bothering me,” Harry assured her. “But yeah, me too.”

            The two said their goodbyes, Harry still blushing, but his smile in full effect now. Still, he decided it was only fair to text Niall, _Why did you tell your mum I was nervous, you little bitch? Xx_

It didn’t take Niall long to reply.

_Don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetums ;)_

            Harry’s smile got a bit wider as he shut his phone, refusing to reply. Niall was busy. He should let him work.

            He was glad, though, that Niall’s mom had called, even if he would never admit it. It could still be a disaster, he knew, but at least his family was giving him a chance, despite the fact that they _had_ to know what he was like, at least in the media’s eye, and a chance was more than he expected.

            “Harry?”

            Turning towards the voice he heard coming from the doorway, Harry saw his sister, concerned look on her face.

            “Is everything okay?” she asked.

            “Yeah,” Harry answered with a reassuring smile that actually seemed to alarm her more. “Everything’s great.”

            “Well…good. I’m glad.”

            A beat of silence passed before she continued.

            “So are you coming back down?”

            The man nodded, following her back down with his phone clutched in his hand.

            “So what did I miss?” Harry asked as he settled back down in his seat. Ashton gave him a strange look.

            “Nothing, you doofus. We paused it. Are you insinuating that we’re rude?”

            “Of course not,” Harry replied, his smile growing even wider still. It felt weird. It felt good.

            “Good,” the singer said. “Now get your ass over on the couch. My right side is cold.”

            Hesitating for only a moment, Harry moved his seat and, with a content sigh, Ashton put both arms around each of the siblings, respectively.

            “You’re such a pimp,” Gemma told her fiancé.

            “Can’t help it; not when I have the world’s prettiest brother/sister combo right in front of me.”

            Gemma laughed, but Harry just kept smiling, thinking he wasn’t too much of a bother after all, not all of the time.

 

            Since things were going so well, _of course_ Harry woke up sick on moving day. Of course. His throat felt like it was being clawed out and he was on fire. Still, he did his best to help unpack, despite his new roommates’ protests. Finally, Louis went out and bought an air mattress, picking Harry up against his will and making him lay there in the empty living room as he and Zayn continued to work. Harry wanted to protest; told himself he was going to, but he fell asleep before he could muster even a groan.

            He was woken later by the mattress dipping down as another body took its place next to him. Figuring it was Louis, Harry pried open his bleary eyes to belatedly scold him for earlier, but it wasn’t Louis sitting next to him after all. It was his boyfriend.

            “Niall, hi,” Harry croaked with a grin as he quickly sat, making himself dizzy. It must have showed because Niall placed one hand on his chest as the other gripped his arm to steady him.

            “Whoa, hey, lay back down,” he said. Harry did, but kept staring up at the other lovingly, even when a cough had him wincing in pain.

            “How long have you been sick?” the blonde asked, laying a hand on Harry’s forehead. His hand was cool against the hot flesh and Harry may have actually moaned.

            “Just woke up like this,” he answered. “What are you doing here?”

            “I talked to Zayn and he told me you weren’t so well. I needed to make sure you were alright.”

            “Probably just a bad cold,” Harry mumbled sleepily. “‘M fine.”

            “Hm,” Niall hummed noncommittally before lying down beside his boyfriend.

            “You’re going to get sick,” Harry protested, but Niall shushed him with a soft kiss to the forehead. They laid in silence for a few, Harry’s eyes drooping closed and then popping open, not wanting to miss a second with Niall right there beside him.

            “You can sleep,” Niall said, hand flittering to touch Harry’s hip gently. “But are you hungry or anything?”

            “Mmm, hungry a little bit, yeah,” Harry admitted. “But we haven’t been to the grocery yet.”

            After pressing another kiss to his sick boyfriend’s forehead, Niall sat up, making to stand, but Harry grabbed onto his hand.

            “No!” he protested, too loudly for his throat. “Don’t go,” he added, softer.

“I’m just going to get you food,” Niall explained, brushing a piece of hair away from the other’s face. “I’ll be back.”

“No,” he said stubbornly.

            “Oh, Haz, you’re awake!” Louis stated then, coming down from the stairway. “I bought ice cream and popsicles at the store if you want something. Or soup…”

            There was a moment of awkward silence as Niall and Louis’ eyes met, both sets turning into slits at their mutual dislike of each other. Harry didn’t notice, though, as his eyes had already shut again, breathing soft even though he kept a tight hand of Niall’s hand.

            “Get him a popsicle, yeah?” Niall basically demanded then, though he kept his voice as friendly as possible. “Something easy to eat and maybe cool him off.”

            “Mhm!” Louis agreed, only for Harry’s sake, voice a little too high-pitched, before he marched to the kitchen. Digging into the freezer, he pulled out a popsicle, hoping Harry liked orange, and put it in a bowl. After taking it back to the boys, he stormed outside, where Zayn was unloading yet another box from his car, and huffed. Zayn raised an eyebrow, wiping a tiny bead of sweat from his forehead.

            “Everything alright in there?”

            “I hate him,” Louis stated.

            “That’s not very nice,” Zayn said. “He can’t help that he’s sick and useless, Lou-”

            “Not Harry, you prick,” Louis said, smacking the other’s arm lightly. Zayn laughed.

            “What did he do?” he asked anyway.

            “He…he just…he’s just there!” Louis exclaimed, thinking it sounded reasonable to him.

            “That is truly a tragedy,” Zayn said with a slight nod of his head, but Louis didn’t miss the amused twinkle in his eye.

            “It’s not funny!” he scolded, barely resisting the urge to stomp his foot like a small child. Zayn’s face suddenly turned serious.

            “I know,” he said, sincerely. “I’m sorry. I know how it feels to not be loved back-really loved-by the person that you love more than anything.”

            Okay, so they were talking about this. Zayn hadn’t pressed Louis to talk about his feelings for Harry since he was blown off the first time, but Zayn wasn’t stupid. Zayn was actually very, very smart. Still, Louis opened his mouth to deny the truth, but stopped himself at the last second, deciding it was best just to change the subject. Besides, Zayn looked sad and, unlike Louis, he actually had a reason to be hurt, so Louis was going to stop being selfish for a few moments.

            “Do you want to talk about it?” he offered. Zayn’s previous engagement was another topic they hadn’t discussed before because it wasn’t really an appropriate discussion to have when Louis was just supposed to be his rebound sex buddy. Now, though, he supposed that relationship had developed into a proper friendship, and friends _did_ talk about this stuff.

            “There’s not much to say,” Zayn said with a shrug, but he set the box down on the ground and leaned against his car, arms crossed tight over his chest, so Louis guessed there was something to say, at least. Zayn continued. “Perrie and I were together for about a year and I loved her, so I proposed. She said yes, but the closer it got, I guess she thought it was too soon and she told me she wasn’t ready. I said that was okay, we didn’t have to get married yet. We could take this slow. But it was me that was the problem, not the wedding, apparently, because she left anyway.”

            “Well,” Louis said, stepping forward to squeeze onto Zayn’s hip teasingly, “she’s missing out.”

            “She’s not really, though,” Zayn said, and, _no_ , that frown had to go, so Louis popped himself onto his tiptoes to place a firm kiss on Zayn’s lips.

            “She is, though,” he said when he pulled away, running a finger down the back of the other’s neck. Zayn sighed, but then smiled, and it wasn’t a full smile, but it was genuine.

            “We should probably make sick boy move up to his room so we can get the living room set up.”

            “Good idea,” Louis agreed.

            Niall decided to help them with that last room, and as annoyed as Louis was, he was at least a little glad that he wasn’t lying next to the love of his life anymore. The singer spent the night though; of course he did, and good, maybe he’d catch whatever Harry had.

            Louis was a terrible person.

            He left before Harry had woken the next morning. Louis knew he probably didn’t have a choice, but he still found it rude. However, he couldn’t be happy over having his dislike of the guy somewhat verified when Harry stumbled downstairs late in the morning, eyes wide and glassy-half with fever, but half with sadness, too-his bottom lip sticking out in an actual pout, a yellow teddy bear clutched tight to his chest. He was an actual toddler, Louis almost convinced himself, but that would kind of make him a pedophile and, ew. No. Harry was most definitely not a toddler.

            “Where’s Niall?” he asked, voice hoarse.

            _He up and left you without a single goodbye_ , Louis wanted to say, but settled for, “His flight was early this morning. I’m pretty sure he has a show tonight. Didn’t want to wake you, as you need your rest and such.”

            Louis deserved a freaking medal, in his opinion.

            “Oh. Yeah,” Harry said, trying to sound understanding, even as his shoulders drooped.

            “Come here,” Louis said, holding his arms out wide. With a tiny, tiny smile, Harry climbed onto the couch with Louis, settling himself against him comfortably. “How do you feel?” Louis asked, noting that Harry’s skin was still hot to the touch.

            “Okay,” he said anyway, and Louis suspected it was a lie. He didn’t call him on it.

            “Cute bear,” he commented instead, and Harry seemed to perk up then.

            “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Niall made it for me. It’s a Build-a-Bear. It sings part of the song he wrote for me! Do you want to hear it?”

            No, Louis did not, and on second look, the bear wasn’t that cute either. Telling Harry that would upset him, though, and since Louis apparently lived to please Harry, he said, “I do want to hear it, yes.”

            Sitting up straight, Harry squeezed the bear’s middle and Niall’s voice rang throughout the living room.

            _You’ll never love yourself half as much as I love you_

_And you’ll never treat yourself right, darling, but I want you to_

_If I let you know I’m here for you_

_Maybe you’ll love yourself like I love you_

            Awful lyrics, Louis told himself. To Harry, he managed to choke a, “Cute.”

           The appearance of Harry’s dimples made the effort worth it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a mild relapse in which Harry is afraid he ruined everything, Niall takes him to Ireland, where Harry can, just maybe, start to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This is long. Sorry.

It took a couple days; a couple days of Louis babying Harry and being at his beck-and-call, but Harry got better. He felt bad, knowing he, Zayn and Louis should have already been having the time of their lives, but they weren’t, and it was his fault. He needed to make it up to them.

            “Let’s go clubbing tonight,” he said as he joined Louis for breakfast (Zayn was already at work), allowing himself to eat one of the doughnuts sitting out. The good thing about being sick and unable to eat anything but soup and popsicles was that he lost weight; only a couple pounds, but it was a couple pounds he knew he hadn’t needed to lose in the first place, so he deserved a doughnut, thank you very much.

            “You sure that’s a good idea?” Louis asked, eyebrow raised.

            “It’s a brilliant idea,” Harry assured him. “I’m all better. No fever.”

            “Yeah, but you don’t want to push it. Besides, Zayn has class in the morning…”

            “This wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone to teach hung-over. Come on, Lou, don’t be boring.”

            “I am _not_ boring!” Louis said, sounding very offended at the implication. Harry merely smiled.

            “Good. It’s a plan, then.”

 

            Turned out, it was a really bad plan. Deep down, Harry knew he’d probably known it was a bad idea all along. He was going to be good, he’d told himself. He would have a few drinks, that was it.

            The splitting headache he had in the morning hinted he’d done a little more than that.

            “Shut the fuck up,” Harry groaned to his phone, whose shrill buzz had rudely pulled him from his nearly comatose state. He felt bad, though, when he saw who was calling.

            “Hey, darling.”

            “Hey, Harry,” Niall greeted, an unidentifiable emotion in his voice. Harry bit his lip through the brief silence that followed. Finally, Niall spoke again. “So you’re feeling better then, I suppose?”

            “Yeah,” Harry said, swallowing hard. He _had_ been feeling better, at least.

            “Good. I’m glad you’re feeling better and I’m glad you’re having fun, but just….please tell me drinking is all you did, babe.”

            He could lie, he supposed. He could tell Niall that, yes, he’d gotten a little drunker than he’d planned but that was it. Yes, he _could_ lie, but he could also be caught in the lie. He had a very, very vague recollection of what he’d actually done last night, so he hadn’t the faintest idea of what pictures or videos could be floating around, ready to give him away.

            “I…um…I don’t think so,” Harry eventually stammered. “I actually don’t remember though, really.”

            “Fuck,” Niall sighed.

            “I’m sorry,” Harry said right away.

            “You know I’m not trying to control you, Harry,” Niall continued. “You know you’re free to do whatever you want, even if it scares the shit out of me, but…you can’t do that stuff when we go to Ireland, you know that, right?”

            Well, no, Harry didn’t exactly know that. It made sense, but he hadn’t really thought about it before. In Ireland, there would be no escape; no way for him to release his stress. He couldn’t- _wouldn’t_ -try to sneak and find a way to get ahold of anything with Niall right there, and he had a feeling getting drunk off his ass would be frowned upon as well. And that was fine. At the beginning of their relationship, Niall hadn’t been on tour. He and Harry had spent almost every second of every day with each other, and Harry survived less drinking just fine. But he’d still known the opportunity was there. Way across the world, in another country where he had no idea where he was or who anyone was, besides his boyfriend and his family, there was simply no way. He would be forced to be good. He would be forced to be someone he just didn’t know how to be.

            “Babe?” Niall said from the other end of the line. Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d last spoken, but he just couldn’t think. There was a buzzing in his ears as his heart pounded, making him want to throw up or pass out right there.

            “I can’t do this,” he finally managed, breath shallow, stupid tears stinging his eyes.

            “What? Harry-”

            “No, I’m sorry, I just…I can’t do this!” Harry cried before hanging up. Then he turned off the phone, just for good measure.

            _What did you just do, Harry?_ He asked himself silently at the same time as he answered, _you just ruined everything._

            Trying to keep his sobs silent, Harry pulled himself off his bead, heading to even he didn’t know where. He felt dizzy and light-headed, still on the verge of passing out or getting sick. He didn’t know which was coming, but one was, he was sure of it.

            He didn’t do either, though. His legs carried him to the bathroom, but instead of collapsing underneath him, Harry found himself shaking as he leaned against the counter and took apart his razor. When he realized what he was doing, he paused, shocked, and admittedly a little scared. This was something he truly hadn’t done in a while, or even had the urge to. He threw away his old ‘cutting’ razor three weeks after his first date with Niall when he started to believe that maybe the guy wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe they could make this work. Maybe Harry wouldn’t send him running.

            He should have known better.

            Once the razor was disassembled, Harry simply held it in the palm of his hand for a while, staring.

            _Don’t do this, Harry,_ one part of his brain begged, but the other part hissed, louder, _Come on, Harry. Prove it to yourself. Prove that you’re not good enough for Niall; for anyone._

Harry caved into the darker part of his mind, as he figured he had known he would. He regretted it immediately, but he couldn’t take it back. All he could do was cry some more and wash the blood off before changing into long sleeves that hid what he did from the boys and himself. Like he could forget.

 

            When Louis woke up, the first thing he did was go to Harry’s room to check on him. He’d gotten carried away again last night, and Louis could imagine it was going to be a long, rough morning for the poor guy. He was actually surprised he hadn’t been woken by the sounds of a hangover yet. The fact that he hadn’t quite scared him, actually.

            Harry’s bedroom door was open, like Louis and Zayn had left it, but Harry wasn’t inside the room. Nor was he in the bathroom. Frowning, Louis quickly padded downstairs.

            “Harry?” he called. No reply came, but he heard a noise coming from down the hall, so he hurried to the living room. “Harry,” he sighed, both in relief and fear. Relief because he was awake and breathing, but fear because he was curled into the tightest ball Louis had ever seen him in, quiet but strong sobs wracking through his body.

            “Hey,” Louis said softly, shoving Harry over gently so he could lie next to him and hold him close. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

            “No,” Harry said, voice thick. “I ruined everything, Louis.”

            “How do you figure?” Louis asked, wiping Harry’s eyes, though it was pointless. The tears just kept coming.

            “I told Niall I couldn’t do the Ireland trip. I…can’t do any of it.”

            “Harry,” Louis said again, kissing the other’s forehead. He said nothing else, though, because there was really nothing else to say, so he just let Harry cry.

            After a full hour had passed, Harry finally got up, though it was only to go to the bathroom. Still, Louis got him to eat a little bit and after showering and taking some Tylenol, Harry hesitantly turned his phone back on. It started buzzing angrily at him, red, urgent _4 new voicemails_ glaring up at him. Swallowing, he pressed the button that took him to listen. Unsurprisingly, they all ended up being from Niall, the first a simple, “Harry, call me back.” The second, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry. Call me back?” The third, “Harry, I’m sorry. Just let me know you’re okay? I’m scared shitless, babe.” He didn’t say anything in the last, but the silence went on for a while, like he was trying to find the right words. Eventually, giving up, the tiniest of sighs could be heard before the click of a phone and the weird voicemail lady told Harry that he had no more new messages.

            Taking a deep breath, Harry called the singer back. He answered halfway through the second ring.

            “Harry?!”

            “Hey,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice as happy as possible without going overboard.

            “Thank God,” Niall sighed. “Are you alright?!”

            “Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry assured him. From beside him, Harry saw one of Louis’ eyebrows twitch up, but he ignored it.

            “Good. Look, I’m really sorry about this morning. I was worried and I just…I don’t know, but I had no right.”

            “No, it’s okay,” Harry assured him. “I’m sorry I worried you. I’ll try to do better.”

            “It’s not about that. I just…I want you to be happy, babe, and I don’t know how to make you happy when I’m not there, and it kills me.”

            “Niall, I’m fine,” Harry said again. “I’m happy. Really. You make me happy, always.”

            “I hope so, love. I really do. And we don’t have to do the whole family thing right now if you don’t want to. I want you to meet them, but on your own time, when you’re ready.”

            “I am ready. I still want to go. That is…if you still want me to.”

            “Of course. It will be great, I promise. I love you so much.”

            “I love you too.”

            “I have to go now, babe, but are you going to be okay?”

            “Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll talk to you later.”

            The two gave their three minute goodbye, and then Harry hung up. Louis turned to look at him immediately.

            “You told him you were fine,” he stated. Harry nodded. “Harry, you’re not fine.”

            “I know,” Harry said with a shrug. “But Niall deserves someone who’s…okay, who’s normal, and so I’ll pretend for now.”

“Sweetie, I don’t think that’s how relationships are supposed to work…”

            “Well, to be fair, gorgeous, you don’t really know much about relationships,” Harry pointed out, placing a sloppy kiss on Louis’ cheek to soften the blow. “I’ll be fine anyway,” he continued. “I always am.”

            “Have you been taking your mediation?” Louis asked.        

            “Most of the time,” Harry said. He’d only skipped the past couple of days, really, when it hurt to swallow or there were other things on his mind.

            “Harry, you need to take them on a regular basis,” Louis scolded, but Harry groaned and rolled his eyes.

            “Please, Louis, don’t turn into Zayn,” he begged. “Just cuddle me.”

            So Louis did.

            “How are things going with Zayn, by the way?” Harry asked after a moment.

            “Great. He’s amazing, Louis said.

            “Yeah, he is,” Harry agreed. “And so are you. I know you don’t want anyone in, you know, a romantic way, but if you ever do, you should choose Zayn.”

            “Sadly, my dear, I believe Zaynie only likes me for my fabulous body.”

            Harry laughed, shaking his head as he buried it further into Louis’ shoulder.

 

            Harry still didn’t believe in fairytales for himself, or, rather, he didn’t believe again. If they were true, he’d be better by now. He should be better, fairytale or not. Niall was great; perfect, even. Harry should be on top of the world.

            The problem, he supposed, was that he knew Niall could do better than him and he felt guilty that he was wasting his time. He kept those thoughts from his boyfriend, of course, and kept the smile on his face as they boarded the plane headed to Ireland despite the fact that he really wanted to throw up. He almost did, actually, multiple times. Luckily, Niall slept most of the way there, so his distress was virtually kept a secret.

            Finally (and too soon at the same time), they arrived in Niall’s home country. The singer gave his boyfriend a smile before taking his hand and leading him into the airport, only letting go to give his mother a tight hug.

            “It’s so good to finally see you again!” Maura cooed to her son. “It’s been so long, I swear you’ve grown.”

“I’m pretty sure I got done growing a while ago, mum,” Niall laughed. The woman ignored that remark, letting go of her son to focus her attention on the other man.

            “Harry! It’s so nice to meet you!” she exclaimed.

            “You too,” Harry managed with a smile, and he was just about to extend a polite hand when he was pulled into a hug as well, eyes growing wide and mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ of surprise. From behind his mother’s back, Niall offered a sympathetic smile and shrug, but soon came to the rescue as Harry awkwardly-very awkwardly-hugged back.

            “Oi, too soon, mother. Let him go.”

            “Sorry, dear,” Maura said, letting go of her son’s boyfriend, making sure to fix his shirt for him at the same time. “You were right, Niall sweetie,” she spoke again. “He’s a looker.”

            Harry turned pink, and Niall rolled his eyes at the woman.

            “I would never use that term,” he insisted, but laced his hand with Harry’s again as they began to follow Maura to her car.

            “Yes, well, your term was rude,” Maura said.

            “There’s nothing rude about saying someone is beautiful as fuck,” Niall argued. Maura clucked her tongue in disapproval, but was stopped from continuing when a few excited fans cautiously approached Niall for a selfie. Surprisingly, they wanted Harry in the picture as well. Of course, they could have simply been trying to be nice, planning to later photoshop him out of the picture, but Harry went along with it anyway.

            It took a while, but they eventually made it out of the airport without having to get security any more involved than they already were. It was then, as they were trying to squeeze all of the luggage into Maura’s car, that Harry realized he may have packed too much. He apologized profusely, but Niall simply stated it was probably “a model thing.”

            Maura made them a big dinner when they reached her house, where they were staying, and Harry was nervous at first. His metabolism wasn’t like Niall’s. He had the feeling Niall could eat meals like this every day-and probably did, when he was home-and not gain a pound. One serving would have Harry blowing up like a balloon. Briefly, he considered simply eating it and getting rid of it later, before his shower, but discarded that thought quickly. Maura had been great to him so far, and putting her hard work to waste by vomiting it up in her own toilet would make him a terrible person.

            “It’s okay, babe,” Niall, sensing distress, whispered in Harry’s ear as he pulled him close to his side. “We’ll go on a nice, long walk later and work most of it off, okay?”

            Harry smiled, feeling calmer already. It would never cease to amaze him how much Niall just knew without him having to say anything.

            And with all that, Harry was able to actually enjoy dinner, more than he usually enjoyed meals. The three talked all throughout, and Niall’s mom seemed genuinely interested in everything Harry had to say. Niall’s hand would often touch Harry’s leg from under the table, almost automatically, like it was second nature. Each time, Harry’s eyes would dart to him in surprise, and Niall would just beam. It was perfect.

            As promised, Niall and Harry went walking after dinner and though Harry was exhausted, he felt good. Maybe Ireland was magical, he thought, only half-jokingly. He felt at peace for the first time in a long time, maybe in forever. He was at peace and _happy_ ; almost bursting.

            “You’re quiet,” Niall commented. “You tired?”

            “Mhm,” Harry admitted. “But also just thinking.”

            “Thinking…?”

            “Good things, I promise,” Harry assured him with a smile and a kiss. Niall returned the smile a thousand times brighter, and then tugged on Harry’s hand, getting him to change directions to go sit by a tree. Harry laid his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, looking up at the starlit sky with heavy eyes. He may have actually been half asleep because when Niall spoke what seemed like an eternity later, Harry started a bit.

            “Hm?” he asked, and Niall gave a little laugh.

            “I said thank you for coming here with me.”

            “I’m just glad you wanted me to come,” Harry said, honestly.

            “Of course,” Niall said like it would be ridiculous to feel any other way. “I love you and I want to spend as much time as possible with you, even if it means bringing you halfway around the world and introducing you to the embarrassing people that I call my family.”

            Harry smiled, tilting his head a bit so Niall wouldn’t see how pathetically wide that smile was.

            “What’s wrong?” the blonde asked, clearly getting the wrong impression.

            “Nothing,” Harry assured him, still looking away, about to burst with emotion; good emotion.

            “Harry…,” Niall said, voice unsure. Finally, Harry looked up and upon seeing his smile, the other man relaxed a little.

            “Nothing is wrong,” Harry told him softly, leaning up to place a soft kiss to his lips. Niall accepted it eagerly.

 

            Sometime shortly after, Harry must have fallen asleep because before he knew it, he was being woken by soft kisses placed all over his face and neck.

            “Trying to sleep!” he groaned, trying to sound angry, but knowing he failed miserably.

            “I know, love. I’m sorry. But breakfast is ready.”

            “Breakfast? What time is it?”

            “After nine.”

            “Oh.”

            Sitting up, Harry realized that he was in Niall’s bed, only dressed in his underwear. He raised a curious, ornery eyebrow at his boyfriend.

            “I don’t remember getting myself nearly naked last night, or climbing into your bed.”

            The shade of red Niall turned was equal parts endearing and hilarious.

            “Just put some clothes on and get to the kitchen. Yeesh,” he said before hurrying out of the room. Harry giggled to himself, but quickly threw on some clothes, made his hair presentable and went out to the kitchen.

            He met Niall’s step-dad, who had been out of town the previous night, at breakfast, and was pleased to find that he was nice. So far, so good, but he was still nervous for that night,when he would be meeting Niall’s father and brother.

            To distract him during the day, Niall decided to take Harry to a sports center, in which guests could play multiple sports all in one day. And Harry was terrible at them all. Niall never mocked him, though, just gave him pointers and cheers of enthusiasm when he did halfway decent. Harry had fun, even if he did probably look sweaty and gross.

            “This isn’t a runway,” Niall had pointed out when Harry voiced his concerns. “And if it was, you’d be the hottest one on it, figuratively and literally.”

            However, as soon as they were back at Maura’s, showering and getting ready to meet the others for dinner, Harry grew nervous again.

            “You look really calm,” Niall told him as he drove them to the restaurant, one hand on the wheel and the other entwined in Harry’s clammy one.

            “Really?” Harry asked, thinking that maybe he should give acting a shot after the designing thing.

            “No, not really,” Niall said, shooting down that short-lived dream. “You look like you’re going to hurl.”

            “Shut up,” Harry groaned, slamming his head against the back of the seat before panicking and rushing to fix his hair. And Niall laughed at him, the little bitch.

            “Seriously, babe, calm down. It’s going to be fine. I’ll be there the whole time, and they’re going to love you.”

            Fine, it was not. Niall’s dad was cool, but Harry quickly decided that the brother was terrifying. He barely smiled at the two and began interrogating Harry as soon as they sat down. True to his word, though, Niall stayed close, one hand on Harry’s knee, giving little reassuring squeezes to try to calm him when he could feel the tension in his body grow.

            Harry was almost relieved when the waitress came to take their order because it meant he got a break from the questioning. _Almost_ relieved. What he was going to order was still an issue. Though his life as a train-wreck model seemed far away way out there, he knew he couldn’t totally let himself go. Besides, his stomach was still doing nervous flip-flops. So he ordered a salad.

            “Is that it?” Greg asked, eyebrow high, once the waitress had walked away.

            “Don’t,” Niall warned.

            “I’m not doing anything,” Greg insisted. “Just worried that he’s used to starving around you cuz you eat all the food or something.”

            “No, you prick,” Niall said with a roll of his eyes as he tossed the lemon from his water at his brother. “And you are officially banned from asking me boyfriend anymore questions for the rest of the night.”

            “I’m just looking out for my little brother,” the man defended.

            “Yes, and thanks, bro, but I know what I’m doing.”

            Niall gave Harry a small smile then, and Harry tried to return it, but at the way Niall frowned afterwards, he assumed the acting dream was officially out of the cards.

 

            “He hates me!”

            “He doesn’t hate you.”

            “Were you at the same dinner as I was, Niall? He _hates_ me!”

            “He doesn’t,” Niall insisted, laying down on the bed and pulling Harry down with him. Harry was too anxious to be still, though, and popped right back up, pacing the room.

            “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m really, really sorry. I tried.”

            “Whoa, no, Harry, you have nothing to apologize for. You were fine. Greg doesn’t hate you, and my dad most certainty doesn’t hate you. He wants to take you golfing sometime, and believe me, that’s a huge deal.”

            “Your dad doesn’t hate me,” Harry agreed. “But your brother does.”

            “He does not. He takes the big brother thing to an extreme sometimes, but he doesn’t hate you. Besides, I love you, more than anything, and that’s what’s important, babe, okay? Now come here and let me kiss you.”

            Pouting, Harry reluctantly sat back down on the edge of the bed.

            “There you go,” Niall said, pulling him closer. I love you so much.”

            “I love you too,” Harry said back, almost in a whisper, once Niall pulled back from the long, passionate kiss he’d pulled him into. The corners of the singer’s lips twitched, but before it could turn into a full-blown sunshine smile, his lips were busy dancing on Harry’s again.

 

            When Harry woke up, he had texts from both Louis and Zayn, asking if he was alright. With a sharp stab of guilt, Harry realized he hadn’t called or messaged either of them since landing in Ireland. He replied immediately, assuring the two that he was fine.

 

            The couple spent the entirety of that day with Niall’s dad, and when Greg made a surprise appearance, Harry was glad to see that he was in a much better mood. He apologized for the dinner, saying he just wanted to make sure Niall wasn’t dating someone “flighty,” whatever he meant by that.

            Maura seemed to be feeling neglected, so the boys watched movies with her that night, Niall groaning, but not protesting, to their choice of having a Nicholas Sparks marathon.

            “Are you going to cry?” Niall teased, wrapping an arm around Harry and pulling him tight as the first movie began.

            “I don’t know,” Harry admitted.

            “I won’t tell if you do,” the other assured him.

            “Thank you, I really appreciate that.”

            “No problem.”

            With that, Niall planted a loud kiss on Harry’s lips, right there with his mom in the room. Before Harry even had time to be nervous, though, she simply let out a small, “Awww!” before snapping a picture.

            Maybe, just possibly, Harry had found somewhere he belonged, and Ireland was turning him into the person he wanted to be instead of preventing him from being who he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the beginning, but I tried to give this chapter a more positive light than the others, all in all. Thanks for the continued support! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis doesn't understand his room mates. Or himself, really.

            Louis was truly an idiot. How could he ever think he was in love with Harry? Harry was an incredible, beautiful guy, but Louis had a heart of ice. He wasn’t in love. He couldn’t fall in love.

Since Harry had been gone, Louis hadn’t missed him at all. Not in the slightest. Part of Harry must have rubbed off on him, though, because, while he used to long solidarity, he now found the silence that consumed him when he was alone to be too much. So he stayed near Zayn whenever possible, even crashing one of his classes one afternoon (during which some things may have happened up against a supply closet. Louis couldn’t help it, though, honestly. Seriously, _you_ try to sit through a Zayn Malik lecture in which his slim body paces around the room, rubbing his hands together every now and then before adjusting his thick-framed black glasses.)

            But anyway…

            Louis did text Harry once, but only with friendly intentions, wanting to check up on the guy. He’d been a nervous wreck before he left. Harry had assured him that he was fine, and of course he was. He was with Niall, the love of his life, who ironically knew next to nothing about him, but that wasn’t any of Louis’ business and he wasn’t bitter. Honestly.

            Besides, his dislike for Niall was again justified on the fourth night Harry was gone.

            It was the middle of the afternoon Louis’ time, so it had to be nighttime in Ireland. Zayn was supposed to call once he got off work to see what Louis wanted him to pick up for dinner, but when his phone rang, the footballer became worried. It was much too early for Zayn to be off work, and he wasn’t expecting a call from anyone else, especially Harry, whose name wasshining up at him when he nervously checked the caller ID.

            “Haz?” Louis answered, knowing the worry was evident in his voice, but not caring.

            “Lou,” Harry said back, and it was obvious that he was crying. Louis’ heart dropped.

            “What’s wrong?” he asked, just about to grab his laptop in case he had to book a last-minute flight to Ireland.

            “He left me,” Harry said, voice cracking, breathing uneven.

            “What?! What do you mean he left you?”

            “We were at a club…I’m still here. We were with his brother. Niall said he had to go to the bathroom and I stayed back with Greg, but I turned to get a drink and when I turned back, he was gone too! I can’t find them anywhere, Louis. They’re gone.”

            “You checked the bathroom?” Louis verified.

            “Yes. I checked everywhere!”

            “I’m sure he didn’t leave you, Harry,” Louis tried to reassure him. “You probably just passed him or something.”

            “No, he left! Everyone leaves me eventually.”

            Harry threw himself down onto the ground, quite hurting his butt, but he didn’t care. A few seconds of silence passed, and before Louis could find what to say, Harry heard his name being called from a little ways behind him. He ignored it, really not in the mood to deal with fans or photographers right then, but a few seconds later, Niall was kneeling in front of him. Briefly, Harry wondered if he was hallucinating. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he was known to lose track of himself.

            “Baby, what happened?” Niall asked, using his thumbs to wipe tears from his boyfriend’s cheeks. Harry could feel the rough texture of his warm hands and figured he wasn’t hallucinating after all. Maybe Niall hadn’t left him, or had at least decided to come back for him. And Harry should not be crying this hard.

            “Nothing happened,” he told the other. “I’m okay.”

            “You’re crying. That’s not okay,” Niall reasoned. Harry sighed, a little bit of pink coloring his cheeks as he admitted softly, (while silently begging Niall not to hear),

            “I got scared.”

            Harry’s silent wish did not come true.

            “What were you scared for, love?”

            “I…I thought you left.”

“Why would I have left?”

            At the question, Harry simply sighed and bit his lip instead of answering. Niall seemed to get it, though, because the confusion lines smoothed away from his face and he moved close to Harry, making their knees touch.

            “I wouldn’t leave you,” he said, his voice also soft, leaning forwards to give Harry a kiss.

            “Um…Harry?” Louis said, and Harry jumped. He’d completely forgotten he’d been on the phone, despite the fact that he’d been holding it up to his ear the whole time.

            “I’m here,” Harry said into the receiver quickly.

            “Yeah, I…it sounds like Niall found you, so I’m going to go, okay?”

            “Okay,” Harry agreed. “I’m sorry for being a bother.”

            “You’re not. I’ll talk to you later.”

            The two hung up and Niall stood, pulling Harry up with him. Hands laced tightly together, the boys walked back into the club, quickly finding Greg back at the bar.

            “What the hell, dude?!” Niall demanded, turning his brother harshly around.

            “What?” Greg asked, stumbling a little.

            “I told you to stay with Harry!”

            Greg looked over at the model, smiling guiltily. “Oops?” he offered. Niall rolled his eyes burning back to Harry.

            “I’m sorry,” he said, running his hand up and back down his boyfriend’s arm. “He’s useless when he’s drunk. I should have known better.”

            “It’s okay,” Harry assured him with a smile. After all, it wasn’t Niall or Greg’s fault that he was constantly expecting people to walk away for good. This wouldn’t have been an issue if he were anyone else.

            “It’s not okay,” Niall said. “But are you alright?”

            “I’m fine,” Harry promised. “One last drink before we get ready to go?”

            “Sounds good to me.”

            They had been smart enough to take a cab there so they wouldn’t have to worry about one of them staying sober, though Harry was surprisingly pretty coherent. He’d stopped at drink three and stayed far away from any groups he thought may have been going harder than alcohol, and the last thing Niall told him before falling asleep in the taxi was that he was proud of him.

            Figuring it was his turn to carry his boyfriend to bed, Harry supported all of his weight on his back as he entered Greg’s house, where they were staying that night. He was surprised to find how light Niall was. He knew he wasn’t actually heavy, of course, but Harry’s diet made him a bit weaker than he would like to admit; not as badly as when he’d had an actual problem, but he was no bench presser. However, he’d decided a couple days ago that, while in Ireland, where there were less paparazzi and much less people concerned with him being a picture perfect doll all the time, he could relax a little , and he let himself eat until he was full, not always having to do something to burn it off right afterwards. His muscles seemed to be thanking him.

            After situating his boyfriend comfortably on the bed, Harry crawled next to him. As soon as he felt the body warmth, Niall let out a tiny sound of contentment, turning his own body closer to the source of the heat.

            “Not going anywhere,” he mumbled, arms snaked around Harry’s naked torso. Harry just smiled, kissed the top of the blonde head and drifted off.

 

            Louis slammed the refrigerator door shut. He was in desperate need of a drink, but, apparently, when Harry wasn’t around, no one felt the need to stock them up. Of course.

            Maybe the phone call shouldn’t have gotten to him that much. No, screw that. He had every right to be upset. He wasn’t angry that Harry was on the other side of the world with Niall. He wasn’t bitter that he’d been falling asleep next to him instead of drifting off on the couch while he cuddled with him and Zayn. No, none of that mattered. Louis was just angry, and for good reason. Harry was his friend-his emotionally unstable friend-and Niall had left him all alone in a club that was no doubt filled with drugs and alcohol. He’d just walked off, leaving Harry to think he’d been abandoned once again. Now Louis could only hope it wouldn’t have lasting effects.

            However, when Harry returned home from Ireland the next week, he seemed happy; actually happy, like Louis had never seen him before. He was still happy when he left for New York the very following week. Still, Louis and Zayn were worried. Harry would be living by himself in another state where he knew nobody, and if that didn’t sound like a recipe for disaster, they didn’t know what did. Harry assured them, though, that he would be fine and that he could handle it now. It didn’t really make them feel better, but what were they supposed to do?

            Niall was still in town so, of course, he would be the one taking Harry to the airport. Still, Louis woke early-it was an ungodly hour, really-to say goodbye. The hurt he felt when Harry closed the door on his way out had nothing to do with love.

            (Yes, in reality, Louis knew he was lying to himself about everything, but it was easier that way.)

            “We’ll go visit,” Zayn said, squeezing the back of Louis’ neck comfortingly. Realizing he was pathetically staring at a closed door, he turned to Zayn, offering a smile before pulling him closer by the hip and giving him a kiss.

            “I should not be awake at this hour,” he commented, “but since I am, we should partake in a nice morning exercise before you go to work.”

            “Hmm,” Zayn hummed contently as he pulled Louis into another kiss. “You’re tempting, Tomlinson, but I have a meeting, so I have to get there early. Rest up and I’ll be home at lunch for a special treat, sound good?”

            “No,” Louis said, but countered that by giving Zayn’s ass a nice little squeeze. “See you then.”

            Louis slept the rest of the morning, waking just about an hour before Zayn was to be home. He made them lunch so Zayn would have something to eat either before or after their dirty quickie, but when Zayn arrived home, he said he wasn’t hungry, and he just seemed off. He was obviously trying to play it cool, but Louis was smart. He picked up on these things.

            “What’s wrong?” he asked, first checking Zayn’s forehead for a temperature. With a slight laugh, Zayn took the other’s wrist and lowered it, smacking a kiss to his friend’s cheek.

            “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, moving his lips down to Louis’ jawline and then neck.

            “You’re lying to me. I’m hurt,” Louis commented, though he wasn’t quite hurt enough to keep from getting aroused.

            “It’s nothing,” Zayn told him, going up to kiss him on the lips then, probably to shut him up. Louis tried not to, but he couldn’t help it; he laughed into the kiss.

            “What’s so funny?” Zayn asked, pulling back with a slight frown on his face.

            “I have the two most emotionally tortured roommates ever,” he explained, and the corners of Zayn’s mouth twitched up as he ran a finger along Louis’ hip and asked,

            “But what about you, Mr. I-refuse-to-fall-in-love-ever-unless-he’s-a-damsel-in-distress-who-has-already-found-his-Prince-Charming?”

            “Niall is _not_ Prince Charming,” Louis scolded, biting Zayn’s lip gently as punishment.

            “I dunno,” Zayn disagreed in a sing-song voice. “Those blue eyes are pretty charming.”

            Louis pulled away then, studying Zayn’s face, trying to see if he was serious. Why did _everyone_ fall for that little blonde Irish singer? What about little brunette English football stars? Hmm? Where was the ~~love~~ appreciation for them?

            “They’re not as nice as your blue eyes, though,” Zayn assured him once he’d been quiet for an extended period of time. Louis rewarded that statement with a smile.

            “You better know it.”

            “Your arse is nicer too.”

            “To be fair, my arse is nicer than most.”

            “You also have the cutest nose,” Zayn continued, stooping slightly to place a kiss on said nose. Louis raised an eyebrow, another small laugh escaping from his lips. Zayn didn’t let that stop him.

            “Plus, you have the most adorable little ears.”

            The tips of Louis’ ears got a nip then, and Louis wrapped a hand in Zayn’s hair, gently pulling his head back so he could kiss that pretty mouth again.

            “If I were any more human, my heart would be melting right now,” Louis said, smirking. “As it is, all you’re succeeding in is making me incredibly horny.”

            “You’re such a gentleman,” Zayn commented sarcastically, but he eagerly took the hand Louis was offering and followed him upstairs.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuum hopefully this wasn't too terrible :/ I was going to edit it some more before I posted it tonight but it's been a looooooooooooooooong week and I almost literally fell asleep in the middle of a sentence so I would probably make it worse in all honesty. I wanted to post something though, as I don't know how early next week I'll be able to update. So...there it was.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into the minds of Zayn and Niall

            Louis didn’t jump out of bed and run that time once he and Zayn had finished. Instead, he simply sighed in contentment, rolling over on his back and shutting his eyes, quite surprising Zayn, if he was being honest. He knew it had nothing to do with him, though. Louis had had a long, emotionally draining few weeks, and that day was possibly the worst. Still, Zayn decided to cherish the moment, and he stared at Louis’ peaceful face for what may have been a creepy amount of time, but he was pretty sure Louis was asleep, so it didn’t really matter.

            He would have been content to just take a nap with Louis before waking up and repeating their cuddle/make-out/make love session over again, but he had to get back to work, so after placing a quick kiss on Louis’ nose, which he’d spent time admiring before, Zayn got dressed and left. It took every ounce of energy he had to not call in sick for the rest of the day, as he’d had an emotionally draining morning as well. He was worried about Harry, of course, but that wasn’t even the majority of what had him messed up. No, that would be Perrie, who had decided to see him that morning.

            She knew Zayn would be at work early. The monthly staff meetings were always on the second Thursday of the month, which she had memorized because those were the only days she’d been able to get Zayn out of bed early enough to go to breakfast with her. The bit of time he had between when the meeting was over and his day actually began was the time she and him would go to the little café around the corner, ordering the same thing every time and eating in silence, just enjoying each other’s company.

            This was only the second meeting since she and him had broken up, and Zayn seemed unable to stop himself from going along with routine. He even sat at their regular table because he was pathetic like that.

            It was a mistake, he realized quickly. As much as he’d complained to Perrie about waking early and going to those dreaded meetings, he actually hadn’t minded at all because he enjoyed spending time with her and relaxing a bit before going along with the typical business of the day. It was peaceful. Those moments had been part of what made him realize that he wanted to marry her. He wanted to see her every morning, right when he woke up. He wanted to cook for her, eat breakfast before even getting dressed, share sleepy morning cuddles…

            But those dreams were dead, which Zayn felt strongly as he glanced at the empty seat across from him, picking at the pastry he usually enjoyed. He was just about to get up and leave when a familiar voice said softly, nervously,

            “Hi, Zayn.”                                                                                                        

            Zayn recognized the voice immediately and his head shot up so quick he got a kink in his neck. Still, it barely registered as he took in the pretty face of his ex-fiancée.

            “I was hoping I would find you here,” she said with a small, fleeting smile. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

            “Um…no, of course not,” Zayn told her, sitting straighter to correct his posture, wishing he’d gotten more sleep last night. She looked amazing, as always, and he probably looked terrible.

            “I’m not sure if this is a good time or even a good place, but I just can’t hold it in any longer,” she continued after a brief moment of awkward silence. “I’m so sorry, Zayn, for everything. I know I hurt you and I can never make that right.”

            “It’s okay, Pez,” Zayn said, almost outwardly cringing as he used her old nickname. Was he allowed to do that anymore? He didn’t know, but she didn’t correct him or look upset, so he went along with it. “I mean, of course it hurt, but I’d rather you tell me the truth and do what makes you happy than go along with what I want, even if it makes you miserable.”

            “I wasn’t miserable. I was scared…overwhelmed. But the thing is, I let those emotions overtake everything else and I made a terrible mistake. I never wanted to break up. I don’t…I hate living without you, Z. I know I really don’t have any right saying this, but I want you back. I want us again…”  

            That was probably the best thing Zayn had ever heard. He had dreamt of hearing it almost every night right after the break-up. The thing was, though, he hadn’t heard those words in his head for a while, and he should still want it; _wanted_ to want it, but he didn’t know if he did. Getting back with Perrie would put an end to whatever he had with Louis. Which was stupid, really, because Zayn and Louis had nothing, but it would mean no more early morning weekend snuggles and late night kisses. Zayn knew he could get those things with Perrie, but she had given him up, and it had hurt. He wasn’t about to hurt himself by giving up Louis.

            And so he did something he’d never done the entire time he’d known the woman sitting across from him; he told her no.

            It made sense right away. It just felt right, and even though the pain in her eyes stabbed at his gut, he didn’t regret his answer. It wasn’t until he was headed home for lunch that he actually gave an extra thought to the life-changing decision he’d made just hours before, and _did_ it make sense? Had he really given up another chance with the woman he’d been so eager to spend the rest of his life with so he could have sex with a guy he meant virtually nothing to?

            No, Zayn knew that wasn’t it. The sex wasn’t what he would miss about Louis. He would just miss _Louis_ , all of him. He would miss making dinner for him before the two either started to settle down for the night or prepared for the events of the evening ahead of them. He would miss seeing him stumble downstairs in the morning, hair every which way and eyes bleary as he made his way to the kitchen for his tea and whatever breakfast item he came across first. He would miss holding him when he was upset (though he would never openly admit he was actually upset), and he would even miss the times Louis would wake him when he couldn’t sleep, offering Zayn an apology cup of coffee before making him get up and entertain him. And by ‘miss,’ Zayn actually meant, ‘couldn’t bear the thought of leaving behind.’

            He couldn’t tell Louis any of this, he knew. Zayn knew how terrified of love he was (though he had no idea why) and the thing with Harry hadn’t helped at all. Zayn’s heart broke for him, it really did. After keeping his heart locked up so securely, he’d finally given it away to a guy that, for his own reasons, would never love him back. Not in the same way, at least.

            Of course, Zayn had done the same thing and it was crazy, he realized. He could be going home every day to pretty, polished Perrie, with her healthy home cooked meals, who greeted him in the evening with a kiss and occasionally, a bottle of champagne. Instead, he was going home to Louis who was also beautiful, but much less polished; who Zayn found that afternoon lying across the couch, beer bottle in hand and a bag of greasy chips resting on his stomach. (The guy probably had the worst diet of any athlete ever, and how his body remained a wonderland was truly a mystery.)

            “Hey,” Louis said as Zayn entered the house, offering a belch instead of a kiss. Zayn almost laughed. And cried. But still, he knew he wouldn’t want Louis any other way-and he wouldn’t want anyone besides him, either-so he smiled, leaning down to give the other’s forehead a kiss. At the contact, his heart gave a painful little lurch and Zayn swallowed, refusing to feel bad for keeping the intensity of his feelings for Louis a secret because if not, he would lose him, and this…whatever it was…was good for both of them. Honestly.

 

            Saying Niall was worried was an understatement. When he’d taken Harry to the airport, the plan was to wait with him until his plane took off and then catch his own to his next destination.

            “I don’t want to leave you,” Harry had said quietly, not making eye contact as he played with the buttons on Niall’s shirt, and the singer’s heart had almost stopped. Harry didn’t voice his real feelings around him much, and after him saying something like that, Niall really had no choice but to buy a last minute ticket on the same flight and go to New York with him.

            Niall did not feel any better when they reached the apartment Harry would be staying at and he met Liam Payne. In his head, Liam had been an old, posh, yet odd, man, too rich for his own good and probably always with a glass of wine in his hand. But that wasn’t who Liam Payne was at all. He was young-super young; around the others’ ages, average height and bulging biceps, which his tank top showed off quite well. He was, honestly…well, he was beautiful. It wasn’t that he thought Harry would be unfaithful. He knew he was true to him (even if he’d briefly speculated the first time he ‘met’ Louis….but that was another matter entirely.)

            The point was, Niall had no doubt that nothing would happen between Harry and Liam. He just wished Harry wouldn’t base his self-worth on what pretty boys thought of him. He was new to the designing thing and no one expected him to be perfect, except Harry himself. A simple word of advice from Liam would feel like failure to the other man, and Niall suddenly didn’t feel as optimistic over this whole thing. It also probably meant all hope for Harry not caring so much about his outward appearance was out the door. His boyfriend’s obsession with vanity had always killed Niall because yes, Harry was gorgeous, but there was so much more to him than a nice face and good body. Harry was genuinely a great person, treating everyone but himself with all the respect in the world. No, Niall still didn’t know why Harry did some of the things he did, but he saw the broken pieces of him, even when he said he was fine. He just didn’t know what to do about them.

            He’d asked Gemma, even.

            _“How do I fix your brother, Gem?”_ he’d sighed, feeling hopeless. Gemma had just given him a small, sad smile and said,

            _“It’s not your job to fix him, Niall. Just, please, treat him right.”_

And Niall was. Sure, he’d made some mistakes. He wasn’t perfect, like Harry seemed to think he was. He made up for those mistakes the best he could, though, and he loved Harry. He loved Harry so much that he sometimes couldn’t breathe thinking about it. Yes, he knew it wasn’t his job to fix the guy, but he wanted to, and he would never give up trying. The thing was, he didn’t know if Harry was ever really ‘fine’ or getting better at all. He didn’t even know what ‘getting better’ would look like, actually, because he didn’t really know what it looked like when something was wrong. He thought it might look like alcohol and drugs, with a bit of disordered eating habits, but, to his knowledge, Harry had always been like that. Part of it was just _Harry_.

Even with all that, he didn’t particularly know why he was so scared when he left Harry alone the next day. It very well may have had something to do with the look in Louis’ eyes before they’d left California, when he’d told Harry to take care of himself. Niall didn’t necessarily like Louis (at all), but he believed the man had Harry’s best intentions at heart, and Harry was a grown man. Surely, he wouldn’t need to be told to take care of himself.

            But, sensing his distress, Harry had given Niall a long, passionate kiss, assuring him that he would be okay, and Niall had no chance but to believe him because the thought of Harry being anything else threatened to make him lose his mind.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry still has trouble being alone. Niall tries to understand.

            The first few days Harry spent alone at the apartment in New York weren’t so bad. The day Niall left was the day Liam was throwing a big party so that his regular design team could meet his newbies. Apparently, everyone would be paired off and working on different projects; one professional with one of the ‘interns.’ Harry was pleased that Liam had claimed him for himself. Harry was also pleased to find that Liam was just as wild as him, and they spent both that night and the next getting wasted. It was a celebration, though. Harry wasn’t trying to drown any unwanted feelings that time. He felt good, actually. Maybe even a bit optimistic.

            Sunday was spent relaxing and, though the absence of another person was a little uncomfortable, Harry was okay.

            On Monday, he found himself at the address and suite number Liam had texted him the previous day, all set for his first day of life as a fashion designer.

            “Good morning!” Liam greeted cheerily when the model entered. “How’s the apartment?”

            “It’s great, Liam, thanks.”

            “Of course. Now, our model will be here in a few minutes, but I wanted to explain to you kind of what we’re going to be doing.”

            Harry nodded, eagerly taking the seat Liam gestured to. With a smile, he continued.

            “After what we talked about that first night we met, I’ve decided to add something to our collection this year. I suppose it could be called a ‘pluz size’ line, but I personally don’t like that term. We are simply making clothes in more feasible sizes and flattering for other body shapes besides what the runway is used to.”

            “That sounds brilliant,” Harry said, a smile breaking across his face. This was what the fashion world needed, he’d decided very early on. He didn’t want to be one of _those_ models that talked about the problems of the industry, because he chose to do what he was doing, as did the other models, but it was draining seeing men and women alike sucking their stomachs in to make their bones stick out more, nearly falling over from hunger or sneaking away to punish themselves after giving in to their bodies’ needs. Harry, of course, was not entirely innocent from falling into the trap, but the modeling world was survival of the slimmest and when you had nothing else going for you, you had to go along with what was wrongfully expected of you.

            In other words, Harry felt better thinking that maybe he wouldn’t be the reason for some boy or girl’s pain.

            “So,” Liam began again, “as I said, our model will be here soon so we can discuss what she would feel comfortable or uncomfortable wearing, but first, you and I need to decide what kind of outfit we are interested in making.”

            They were taking the model’s actual comfort level into consideration? Harry could probably dance. He didn’t.

            “What do you mean?” he asked instead, referencing the last part of Liam’s statement and hoping it wasn’t a stupid question.

            “The fall line, I think, is a lot more open than others. We have several options of what to choose from; long-sleeved and longer dresses in general, pant suits, sweater dresses, jackets…”

            “Oh,” Harry said. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Sorry.”

            “There’s no need to apologize, Harry,” Liam assured him with an actual twinkle in his eye.

            “But I…uh…I have no idea. What do you think we should design?”

            “I want you to choose.”

            Harry’s eyes may have bugged out of his head a bit as his heart rate picked up speed.

            “Me?”

            “Yes. We hire interns so they can get a taste of what they’re interested in. This experience could be what makes them decide that this is their dream, or send them running in a completely different direction. Of course, we want them to enjoy themselves, and they won’t do that if they feel we’re taking away their creative liberties.”

            “Oh.”

            That made sense. The problem was, Harry literally had no idea of what to choose. Unlike most of the other interns (probably), he hadn’t ever actually thought about a certain design he’d like to create. He’d simply known he’d like to try to make _something._

            “I like sweater dresses, I guess,” he said finally. Gemma wore them all the time, and she looked cute.

            “Perfect,” Liam said with a smile. “And what colors are you drawn to?”

            As the day went on, Harry became much more comfortable with all of Liam’s questions and even the process in general. Their model was gorgeous, and, while she wasn’t typically what would be seen on the runway, Harry decided he preferred her over them anyway. She looked healthy; alive. She looked like she still had a soul.

Originally, Harry had mentioned making their outfit a dark red, but upon meeting Savannah, the model, he decided blue would match her skin tone much better. Liam agreed.

Once all of their business with Savannah was finished, Liam and Harry went shopping for material. They decided on a lighter material, plain blue, with the exception being the cuffs of the sleeves, which would be the same pattern as the leggings that they were also going to make.

            “What about shoes?” Harry had asked.

            “My company doesn’t design shoes specifically,” Liam told him. “But we are in partnership with a shoe company for things such as this. We’ll go look at their selection closer to when the outfit is finished, but we can brainstorm ideas.”

            “Well, the leggings are going to be gray with those black diamond-y shapes, right? So I think the boots should be black. They can’t be too tall, though, or they’ll hide the leggings.”

            “Ankle boots,” Liam agreed with a nod and then another smile. “Harry Styles, I think you’re a natural.”

 

            So, yes, Harry was in a pretty good mood that day. As soon as he got back to the apartment, he called Niall to tell him all about it. His good mood must have shown in his voice because Niall, who was admittedly usually very chipper, seemed absolutely ecstatic for his boyfriend.

            While happy, Harry was also exhausted, and he crashed after hanging up the phone.

            He hadn’t thought that he’d sleep through the whole night, so he didn’t set his alarm for the morning before going to sleep. He _did_ sleep through the night, though, and only had enough time for a quick shower the next day before heading to the studio. He was just a bit light-headed and couldn’t understand why before realizing that he hadn’t eaten since lunch time yesterday. Oh well. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do about that right now.

            It was probably the hunger, then, that made him a bit crankier that day. He distracted himself by working (of course) and sending a bunch of creeper shots he snuck of Liam (blue may have looked better on Savannah than red, but red was definitely Liam’s color) to Louis. He knew the other guy probably wasn’t awake yet, what with the time difference and all, but at least he would wake up to something nice.

            Sure enough, when he got a reply from Louis an hour later, the message read, _Oooh, do you think he’d be up for a threesome with Zayn and myself? ;)_

Harry assured him that he would have to be blind in order not to be.

            By keeping himself busy, Harry managed to stay off of the edge during the day. However, once the evening rolled around and he was alone in his quiet, empty apartment, he could start to feel himself lose it. Niall wasn’t answering his phone, Louis and Zayn were out at an early dinner and Gemma and Ashton had plans with someone about some wedding stuff. Harry was alone. He’d always been alone and always would be.

            As he stood to change, a hunger pain shot through his stomach and Harry winced, but he ignored it. Or rather, he embraced it. He deserved to suffer. He deserved all of this.

            Though he was mentally slipping, Harry was at least aware enough to _know_ he was slipping, and he invited Liam over, unsure of what he’d do if he said no. He didn’t say no, though, and arrived shortly after with bottles of alcohol and bags of cocaine. Harry kind of decided he loved him.

 

            “Shit,” Niall muttered after stepping off the plane and seeing that he had a missed call from Harry. He didn’t worry too much, though, as he knew he would be at Harry’s place in just a few minutes. True, it had only been a few days since they’d seen each other, and they’d talked every day minus that particular one, but it wasn’t good enough. The more he was away from Harry, the harder it got, and he needed to actually feel him; kiss him.

            It was late, and Niall briefly contemplated getting a hotel, but decided against it. He doubted Harry would care how late he showed up and, besides, he was off the next day, as Liam had his other project to work on, so he might even still be awake.

            Niall had to wait almost a full minute after knocking on the door (and yes, that did seem like an eternity), and when it opened, it wasn’t Harry he was staring at.

            “Oh, Liam, hey,” Niall said, wondering how many times a strange guy would be the one letting him in to see his boyfriend.

            Niall decided he best not dwell.

            “Hey, Niall,” Liam said with a tired smile, stumbling a bit as he supported himself with one hand on the doorframe. His eyes were bloodshot, but he was coherent enough as he said, “Harry didn’t tell me you were coming.”

            “He didn’t know,” Niall admitted. Liam’s smile grew bigger. “Oh, he’ll be so happy then! Please come in.”

            “Thank you.”

            As he stepped around the man to enter the apartment, Niall almost started to wish he had gotten a hotel room instead. Alcohol bottles littered the floor as well as small plastic bags, which Niall was not too naive to know what they had been for.

            “Harry,” Niall sighed, kicking away some trash to make his way over to the couch and lie down next to his sleeping boyfriend. The model didn’t wake, but felt Niall’s body heat immediately and wrapped his limbs around him tightly. Liam collapsed back onto the floor, snoring before he even hit the ground. Niall kind of wanted to laugh, and if it were another situation, he might, but the last of the positivity he had for Harry’s New York adventure was quickly dissipating.

            He didn’t sleep much, but somehow, he’d missed Liam slipping out the door sometime in the wee hours of the morning. With relief, Niall noted that he’d at least cleaned up the mess before leaving.

            When the singer finally gave up on getting any decent rest, he pulled himself off the couch, groaning when he saw that it was only six in the morning.

            After washing up really quick in the bathroom sink and putting on a cleaner pair of clothes, Niall went to the kitchen to snoop. He was pleased to find that it stored the necessary ingredients to make cinnamon rolls, so since there was really nothing else to do, and making breakfast for Harry when he visited was kind of routine anyway, he began to bake.

            Unsurprisingly, Harry was still sleeping once Niall had nothing to do but wait for the sweets to get out of the oven. He was all curled in on himself again, and for reasons he couldn’t really explain, Niall hated seeing him like that, so he went to his boyfriend’s bedroom, found his bear sitting on the bed and tucked it beside him, smiling when Harry clung to that instead. Then he went back to the kitchen, fearing getting distracted and ruining the food.

            “Niall always makes cinnamon rolls,” Harry’s voice came from the other room as the meal was just about finished. Niall smiled to himself as Harry continued. “And they’re really good. You have some tough competition, Liam.”

            Only a few seconds later, Harry was in the entryway. Niall turned to see him completely still, eyes wide as he realized that the person in his kitchen was not Liam. The two stared at each other for a brief moment before Harry let out a scream, catapulting himself into his boyfriend’s arms.

            “Hey,” Niall laughed as Harry started planting kisses on his neck. “I’m glad you like me cinnamon rolls so much, babe, but you might want to let me get them out of the oven before they burn.”

            “Let the place be engulfed in flames,” Harry said, but got down anyway.

            The guy ate like he was starving, but Niall didn’t say anything. He knew better.

            After eating, the two moved to the living room. A cuddle session was in order.

            “So did you have a party last night?” Niall asked, keeping his tone light.

            “A pity party, maybe,” Harry answered.

            “Why? What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing anymore.”

            Harry climbed onto Niall’s lap, attacking his neck with love again, but Niall was not going to let himself get distracted that easily, no matter how bad he wanted to.

            “Tell me,” he prodded, starting to tickle Harry’s side. With a yelp and laugh, he fell sideways onto the couch and Niall leaned over him, staring deep into the pretty green eyes gazing up at him.

            “It’s just that, sometimes, it’s bad for me to be alone with only my thoughts,” Harry said, smile on his face countering his words. “But you’re here, and I’m fine now.”

            “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Niall said quietly, placing a kiss on Harry’s forehead.

            “I know,” the model said, eyes falling downward, looking ashamed.

            “But it’s okay,” Niall reassured, squeezing between his boyfriend and the back of the couch, pulling the man close. “We’re okay.”

 

            To Niall’s disappointment, Louis and Zayn showed up later. Apparently, they’d made last-minute plans to visit, as Zayn still had vacation days to use before the end of the year since he would no longer be taking a honeymoon. And that was fine. Niall didn’t mind Zayn visiting at all, but didn’t Louis have other things to do, like kick a ball…or squats? (That was the only explanation for that butt, Niall had decided.)

            He tried to not be bitter that Harry’s face lit up when Louis gave him a hug that lasted way too long.

            The whole group went to party with Liam and crew that night (apparently partying on Wednesdays actually happens), but Niall actually didn’t mind. Louis and Zayn weren’t around much, instead hanging off Liam like little sluts. Which, no, that wasn’t fair. Zayn wasn’t a slut. He was still recovering from a heartbreak and Louis…

            Well, Louis was probably a slut.

            So, basically, even though they were in a crowded bar, Niall got Harry all to himself that night and Harry behaved well, stopping after two drinks and no drugs.

            Louis and Zayn eventually disappeared with Liam after Louis had run over to tell them not to worry about waiting up for them (which Niall wouldn’t dream of doing anyway), and so Niall and Harry were once again alone in the apartment later that night.

            Niall supposed what happened next was pretty much his fault. He’d been more than willing to have a heated make-out session with Harry in the back of the cab (and all the way up to his floor). He hadn’t complained when Harry took off his shirt because why would he? He didn’t put up a struggle when Harry took off his shirt for him either. He only froze when Harry started to unbuckle his belt, whispering a breathy, “Bedroom?” into his ear.

            “Harry,” Niall said reluctantly, a part of him screaming at himself all the while. “Baby, maybe we should, you know…wait.”

            “Don’t worry. Have condoms,” Harry assured him, slipping the other’s belt out of the loops and tossing it to the floor.

            “Harry, babe…”

            “Wuzzit?”

            Niall was seated on the couch, Harry half naked and undoing his jeans from between his knees and Niall wanted nothing more than to let him keep going. His curls were disheveled, his lips red and swollen, eyes glinting with lust, and Niall knew he himself probably looked even more wrecked than that. He certainly felt wrecked already. Still, he knew he couldn’t do this to Harry, or let Harry do this to himself.

            “I think we should just, you know, wait a little longer. That’s a big part of a relationship and-”

            “You don’t want it to mean that much,” Harry finished, inaccurately, for him, standing and taking a few steps back, crossing his arms tight around his bare middle. Niall, distracted by the beauty in front of him, took too long to reply.

            “No…No! Harry! That’s not what I mean!”

            “Am I that disgusting then?!” Harry asked instead. He was about to cry, Oh Lord, no.

            “You’re not disgusting at all! Hey, just listen to me.”

            “I’d rather not,” Harry said, turning and heading down the hall towards his bedroom.

            “Harry, wait!” Niall called, standing up and following his boyfriend, but Harry had had too much of a head start and the door was closed and locked before Niall could stop him.

            “You’ve got this all wrong,” Niall tried through the door. He got no reply. “Baby, please.”

            Nothing. Holding in a sigh, Niall sat down, back against the wall, hoping Harry would open it just to make sure he’d gone, but he didn’t. Eventually, Niall made his way back to the living room, dressed himself back up and sat down on the couch.

            Hours passed with no sound from Harry. Niall had tried one more time to gain access into the other’s room, with no more luck than he’d had the first time. He was just about to try to get a bit of sleep on the couch-again-when a loud knock on the door had him nearly jumping out of his skin.

            “Who is it?” he asked as he headed to the door.

            “Don’t you have a peephole?” came the sarcastic voice of Louis and, rolling his eyes, Niall opened the door.

            “Didn’t think you two would be back tonight,” he murmured grumpily as Louis and Zayn made their way inside.

            “We didn’t think you’d be able to sleep without us,” Louis announced, and _where_ did his ego come from? Because it needed to go back to that place.

            “Harry asleep already?” Zayn asked, sinking down onto the couch and pulling Louis with him. Niall sighed and nodded. Seeming to sense something was wrong, Zayn frowned. Louis looked curious, but not entirely upset. “What is it?” Zayn continued. Niall shook his head, not knowing exactly how to explain what had happened. Still, the other man didn’t give up. “Hey, are you both alright?”

            “Yeah, I guess. I mean…I think I messed up.”

            “What did you do?” Louis asked immediately. Niall wanted to punch him. He explained the best he could anyway.

            “Well, of course he’s upset,” Louis said once he was done. “He thinks you don’t want him now.”

            “But that’s not it!” Niall groaned. “I just want to be respectful of him.”

            “He doesn’t know how to be respected,” Zayn said. Niall thought that was possibly the saddest thing he’d ever heard. “You did what you felt was best, and that _is_ respectful of you, but Harry took it as rejection,” Zayn explained.

            “What am I doing?” Niall muttered after a moment of silence and a defeated sigh.

            “What do you mean?” Zayn questioned.

            “I love Harry and do the best I can with him, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough,” Niall said, making sure to keep his voice low.

            “You broke his trust,” Louis pointed out.

            “And how did I do that?!” Niall snapped. Louis quirked up an eyebrow, but answered calmly.

            “Well, for one, you called him by your ex’s name.”

            “But that was a while ago,” Niall defended, though he felt a pang of guilt at the reminder. “We’ve moved on from that.”

            “No,” Louis corrected, “Harry’s forgiven you for that, but it always stays with him, and that paired with the fact that you won’t show him love-or the kind of love he’s used to-makes him insecure.”  

            “But Harry loves you,” Zayn added in quickly, “and if you truly love Harry, then don’t give up on this. It’s not a mistake.”

            Niall didn’t miss the way Louis’ lips pursed at that, or the way Zayn squeezed his thigh gently, but now was not the time to waste his moments being angry at Louis Tomlinson.

            “Talk to him,” Zayn urged, and Niall nodded, running a nervous hand through his hair before heading to Harry’s room once again. He would have knocked, but didn’t want to wake the guy if he’d managed to fall asleep. Deciding to try his luck, he twisted the door handle. To his surprise, it was unlocked and he entered quietly. The light on the bedside table was on; dimmed, but bright enough that Niall could see that Harry was not asleep at all.

            “Can we talk?” Niall asked, shutting the door behind him. Harry said nothing, continuing to stare at the ceiling. Sighing, Niall sat by his boyfriend’s feet, deciding that until Harry protested, he was going to talk, at least.

            “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he began. “I didn’t mean to. You’re beautiful, Harry, and so sexy, and we’ll go all the way eventually. I want to, I really do. I just need you to understand that that’s not why I’m in this first.”

            “Why _are_ you in it?” Harry asked, voice hoarse.

            “Because you’re amazing and I love you.”

            There was much more to it than that, of course, but Niall decided to give the short answer for now.

            “I’m not amazing,” Harry said.

            “You are, though, and I don’t know how to make you believe that, but I’ll always tell you anyway. But, babe, also…I want you to talk to me. I don’t always know what you’re feeling or why, but I want to.”

            “I ruin things by talking,” Harry said then, voice cracking a little.

            “Nothing you say can ruin this, okay?”

            Again, Harry was silent, but he didn’t look completely angry anymore. Rather, he seemed to be contemplating something.      

            “Can we just cuddle for now?” he finally spoke, and it wasn’t perfect. Niall still really wanted him to open up, but at least cuddling meant he was accepting him in again, so for now, it would do.

            After kissing the other on the forehead, Niall stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the sheets, making sure to not let go of Harry all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry if I messed anything up, fashion/designing-wise. I know absolutely nothing about design or womens' fashion. (Or mens' fashion, really, but we won't go there because I like to pretend I'm cool.)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After nearly hitting rock bottom, Harry finally opens up to his boyfriend. Meanwhile, back in California, Louis and Zayn kind of really hate love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: (Kind of?) This chapter could potentially be triggering. I tried not to get too detailed with the darker parts, but, believe me, I know how touchy some topics can be. I wish this site had an inbox option so if anyone needed to talk they could. I guess you can e-mail me if you need? I'm at little_deaths69@yahoo.com. (I know, I know. I'm mature.) You can send me everything except hate please. Ha....
> 
> ***Edited to say that if you do happen to message me, give me a bit to reply. I try to check my e-mail twice a day, but sometimes life prevents that from happening. If it takes a bit for me to get to you, I'm not ignoring you! I will get back with you. Ok, thanks.

            Niall and Harry didn’t get to talk-really talk-before Niall left since Louis and Zayn were there. Harry knew Niall wasn’t happy about it, but he was relieved. Yes, Niall had told him that nothing he said could ruin what they had, but Niall didn’t know exactly how fucked up he was.

            Once the singer was gone and Zayn in the shower, Louis asked Harry how he was, and Harry shared this fear with him.

            “Hey, don’t worry so much,” Louis had said, adding teasingly, “Zayn and I are still here, aren’t we?”

            “For now,” Harry murmured, stress level rising at the thought of those two leaving him as well.

            “Harry,” Louis said sternly, cupping the younger man’s face in his hands. “Zayn and I aren’t going anywhere and if he’s smart, neither is Niall.”

            Louis’ face showed nothing but sincerity, and Harry wanted to believe him, but he just couldn’t, and he hated himself for it. He wanted the Ireland feeling back; the time he’d been happy and felt wanted, like he belonged. How had so much changed in such a short amount of time when nothing had _actually_ changed?

            The answer to that question was unknown, but, nonetheless, Harry wasn’t in the best state of mind when it was time for his friends to leave that weekend. He almost even asked Louis to stay. Almost, but it was time for him to grow up, so he didn’t.

            So he was left alone again, and terrified. He hadn’t felt this low since right after his last actual boyfriend before Niall had cheated on him with the gorgeous in-real-life Ken doll. Still, he tried not to let it show.

            “I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” Niall sighed from the other end of the line during his and Harry’s Sunday night talk.

            “Don’t you like touring?” Harry asked.

            “I do and I love the fans, of course, but I want to be with you for longer than a couple days at a time.”

            “Yeah, that will be nice,” Harry said, not mentioning that it probably wouldn’t be as exciting for Niall as he was imagining.

            “I’ve actually been thinking…,” Niall started. Harry grew nervous immediately. There were so many ways this conversation could go.

            “Yeah?” he urged after a swallow.

            “Yeah. I think I’m going to get me own place near yours. Staying at your house with Louis and Zayn could potentially get a little hectic.”

            “Probably,” Harry agreed. “If you think you’re going to be in California enough to make it worth it, that is.”

            “That’s where I do most of me recordin’, and it’s your home, of course. I want to spend this whole next break with you. You can come look at places with me, if you want.”

            “That would be fun.”

            The panic had worn off now. Niall getting his own place in California was a good idea, to be honest. Keeping him and Louis apart until Harry could work on making them friends would probably be best.

            “And I know you just moved, but if you wanted, you could move in to my place with me.”

            With that, the panic was back. Moving in with Niall would be great, Harry knew, at first, but once Niall grew tired of him and kicked him out, he would have nowhere to go. Sure, Niall could handle him in small doses, but Harry didn’t think he would like being around him 24/7.

            “Are you there?” Niall asked after a bit.

            “Y-yeah,” Harry stammered. “Moving in, I…I’ll have to think about it, okay?”

            “Okay,” Niall said, disappointment in his voice. Harry had hurt him.

            Adding guilt to the long list of emotions Harry was feeling, he drank himself to sleep that night. The alcohol seemed to fuel his misery, though, and all of the things from the day and night before were intensified, especially the ones that had to do with Niall. _Harry had hurt him_. And now he hated himself. He shouldn’t have the power to hurt Niall. He didn’t deserve him in the first place. Maybe it would be best if he just ended it.

            No. These feelings had to stop. Harry knew he couldn’t handle losing Niall, as selfish as that made him, and he needed to stop those thoughts before he did something.

            Making his way to the bathroom, Harry opened his medicine cabinet and took out his bottle of anti-depressants. He’d forgotten all about them until that point. He wasn’t even sure how many doses he’d missed, but they were, apparently, catching up with him.

            Dumping the remaining pills into the palm of his hand, Harry counted out seven little capsules. That should be enough to take the edge off the darkness for now, and he probably was ready for a re-fill, so he’d take care of that later.

            He was supposed to meet Liam, but not until around lunch time, so the plan was to take the pills and catch a couple more hours of sleep, feeling fresh when he woke up. However, the minutes ticked by and nothing seemed to be happening. He still wasn’t the least bit tired, and he felt no more emotionally better than before.

            _You must be really fucked up if pills can’t even help you_ , Harry chastised himself. Well, fine then. He’d tried the more acceptable way of helping himself and that hadn’t worked, so he felt he had no other choice than to give in to one of his old habits; the one he hadn’t done since that morning so long ago, when he’d realized he was relapsing with the drugs.

            Needing relief and needing it right then, Harry decided he didn’t have time to disassemble his razor. Instead, he made his way to the kitchen, took a knife from its holder on the counter and pressed down on his wrist. As he did, his vision became blurry, his head spinning, and he gasped as the knife slid across his skin, stinging more than usual that time.

            Dropping the weapon he’d just used against himself onto the ground, Harry focused his bleary eyes the best he could on the blood pouring from him. There was a lot, much more than Harry had ever seen before.

            “Shit,” he breathed, stumbling to grab some paper towels and holding them against the wound. The blood soaked through. Harry was just about to find some thicker towels and hopefully some strong tape when the room went black. He felt himself crash to his knees and gasped against that pain too, but he wasn’t aware of anything after that for a long, long time.

 

            Harry hadn’t been answering his phone all day and Niall was literally sick with worry. Even though he may have made a mistake asking him to move in the previous night, they’d ended their phone conversation on a good note. Or he’d thought so, at least.

            His rational mind tried to tell him that Harry was busy; simply working on his project. But he didn’t get even a simple _ttyl_ text and, besides, something deep down kept telling him that that wasn’t the case at all.

            Finally, at what was almost ten Harry’s time, Niall received a phone call. He answered immediately.

            “Hey, oh my fuck, I’m so glad to hear from you.”

            “Hey, Ni,” Harry said, voice weak and hoarse. He sounded exhausted. Niall’s heart dropped.

            “Something happened, didn’t it?” he asked, not having the will or energy to dance around the subject.

“I…um…I was in the hospital,” Harry said.

            “What?! Why?! Are you okay?!”

            “I’m fine,” Harry said, not continuing after that.

            “What happened?” Niall prodded. After hesitating, Harry finally explained.

            “I, um, I have anti-depressants and I took too many this morning, I guess. I was…in a bad place and I also cut myself, which I hadn’t done in a long time, I promise, and I accidentally went too deep.”

            Niall thought he may be having a heart attack. He also thought he may be crying. Neither of those things were important right then, though.

            “I’m on my way.”

            “No, Niall, you just left. I’m okay.”

            “I’m on my way, Harry,” Niall insisted. “And we need to talk about this.”        

            “Talking doesn’t help!” Harry cried. “Nothing does!”

            “I’ll be there soon. Please, please don’t do anything.”

            “It was an accident, Niall, not a suicide attempt.”

            “Just be careful. Please.”

 

            It was 9AM New York time when Niall arrived. Harry looked like he hadn’t slept all night, which made two of them.

            When the door was first open, Niall didn’t say a word. He pulled Harry against him and held him tight. Harry returned the hug, and Niall squeezed his eyes shut against the thick bandage he felt on the other’s wrist.

            Once he finally managed to let go, Niall took Harry’s hand and led him to the couch.

            “Why did you do it?” he asked. Harry’s gaze was set intently on his knees.

            “I don’t know.”

            “Why did you do it, Harry?”

            Tears started leaking from Harry’s eyes then and Niall took his hand, rubbing small circles on the skin with his thumbs and patiently waiting. Eventually, Harry spoke.

            “I try to be strong and not feel like this, but I can’t help it. I know I haven’t told you much about my past, but when I met you, it felt like a chance to start over and I’m trying, but there are some things I can’t get over. My mum left Gem and I when we were little. A few years later, our dad left too; just abandoned us at a toy store and told them he didn’t want us back when they got ahold of him. And it was because of me. He liked Gemma, but it had to be both of us or neither, and so she was stuck in foster care because of me. She said it wasn’t that bad and we were separated, so I’ll never know, but my homes were bad. All of them hated me. Everyone at school hated me. The only thing anyone ever wanted from me was sex, and I was so lonely that I pretended that was love. I let myself be involved in relationships that weren’t good at all, and I thought that was all I deserved.

            ‘My last boyfriend before you cheated on me with some gorgeous, fit model guy, and that was it for me. I decided I wasn’t made for relationships, so I started hooking up with almost anyone who would have me. It made me happy for the night, but I was ashamed, and I started drinking and doing drugs so I wouldn’t feel it as much. That’s kind of how the cutting started too, I guess, but I’d been doing that before. Then I met you, and you’ve always been so different from everyone else, in the best way. You make me feel good, but sometimes that scares me because I know that if it ever ends, I’ll fall further than I ever did before.’”

            Sometime while his boyfriend had been talking, Niall had started crying again. He was glad Harry finally opened up to him, but he hadn’t expected it to hurt so damn bad.

            “First of all,” he began after a hard swallow, “it’s not going to end, Harry, not unless you want it to. I’m in love with you, and that’s never going to change. I know that. If I could, I would destroy every single person who made you feel this way.”

            “I’m sorry I’m so weak,” Harry said, one more single tear sliding down his cheek. Niall shook his head, taking the other’s hand.

            “But you’re _strong_ , Harry. Yes, you might be damaged, but who isn’t? And you’ve been through a lot, more than most people. But you’re still going, and you’re such a great person. You’ve never returned an ounce of pain to the world that’s hurt you so badly. I’m just so scared that you can’t love yourself like you love everyone else because, while you may not _mean_ to ever take it too far, clearly an accident can happen. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, and I want that to last for a long, long time.”

            “I don’t want to die,” Harry said after only a moment of silence. “I want to get better.”

            “That’s the best thing I’ve heard in a while,” Niall said with a smile. “You’ll get better, I promise. I’ll make sure of it.”

 

            “We should never have left Harry! We _knew_ he was unstable and we just…walked away!”

            “This wasn’t our fault, Louis,” Zayn said calmly, patiently. “It’s not anyone’s fault.”

            “Harry can’t be alone,” Louis said, pacing around the living room, nearly shaking with worry, guilt, fear….everything. “I’m going back.”

            “He isn’t alone now. Niall is there.”

            Louis huffed. “Maybe, but Niall doesn’t seem to be helping much.”

            “Neither do we, to be fair.”

            Louis stilled then, turning to glare at Zayn, but the glare fell short at the slump in his shoulders. Zayn stood then, walking over to pull the other man tight in his arms from behind.

            “I know you’re worried, babes, and I am too, but we can’t save Harry. He has to do that himself.”

            “He just needs someone to love him, Zayn. Really love him.”

            “Well, I know you don’t want to hear this, Lou, but Niall loves him. Really loves him. It’s obvious by the way he looks at him like he’s the combination of all the gods who have ever existed, and that he’s still there no matter how much Harry pushes him away because he knows he actually needs him to stay- and Niall _wants_ to stay. I think you know it’s true.”

            “It isn’t fair,” Louis sighed, leaning his head back against Zayn’s shoulder, looking up at his face with sad eyes. “Why do we have to torture ourselves by loving people who don’t love us back?”

            Zayn knew that, for him, Louis was talking about Perrie, but he wasn’t going to tell him he was wrong in that aspect, obviously.

            “I don’t know,” he answered instead.

            “How are you, by the way?” Louis asked, pulling gently away, but turning and putting his arms around Zayn’s waist. “I’m sorry I haven’t asked that in a while.”

            “I’m just fine,” Zayn said with a smile, planting a loud kiss on Louis’ lips. “I do have to go to work now, though. Try not to worry yourself to death, and I’ll call at lunch. Kay?”

            “Alright. Have a good day at work, honey!”

            His voice was full of sarcasm, so Zayn smiled, but silently cursed his life as he walked out.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I don't usually do chapter songs or whatever, but my friend sent me this song while I was typing this up and it's perfect. So, if you're interested, look up the song "Those Who Wait" by Saving Abel. That is officially this chapter's theme song, as I'm convinced it was written for this particular purpose ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry still has a long way to go, but he knows a couple of things for sure;  
> 1) He's not alone   
> 2) He really, really loves Niall Horan

            Harry was in a good mood when he went back to work two days later. Before heading to the studio, he went to the airport with Niall to see him off. They’d had a nice couple of days together. The moving in together thing hadn’t been brought up again, but something else was; something that helped Harry believe a little more that maybe Niall really was in this to stay.

            “You know,” the blonde had said as he sat with his boyfriend at the back of the apartment building, gazing up at the stars and just enjoying each other’s company.

            “I don’t know. What do I possibly know?” Harry asked with a smile when Niall had trailed off. Niall offered a smile as well and continued.

            “When we get married-” _when_ , Harry noted, not _if_ \- “We would either be Harry Horan or Niall Styles.”

            Harry laughed loudly, clamping a hand to his mouth as Niall beamed over at him.

            “Maybe we should just keep our own last names in that case,” he eventually said when he’d finally managed to stop giggling. The names were genuinely funny to him, but the topic of marriage just made him giddy. He couldn’t help it. Yes, sex was what he’d been accepting as love for the past few years, but marriage was what he’d always longed for.

            “Excuse you, I rather like Niall Styles,” the singer said, still smiling.

            “Niall Styles-Horan? Harry Styles-Horan?” Harry suggested.

            “Perfect,” Niall agreed. Harry simply giggled again.

            “You’re so cute,” the other man said with his own small laugh before proceeding to tackle Harry (gently) onto his back in the grass, leaning over him to place a long, intimate kiss onto his lips.

            Harry didn’t know how long they stayed laying together in the grass kissing, but both had grass stains once they’d finally went back inside. Neither cared.

            Now, Harry could tell Niall was nervous about leaving and he felt bad knowing he’d done that to him.

            “Hey,” he said soothingly, wrapping his long arms around the smaller guy. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. This time, I promise.”

            “Yeah, I just…call me if you feel like that, okay? I don’t care if I’m onstage in the middle of a song, I want to talk to you if you start to go…all dark.”

            “I’ll call you right away,” Harry assured him. “I won’t do anything. I learned my lesson, finally.”

            Niall replied with a kiss, his hand running over the area of Harry’s wrist that was still bandaged, hiding stitches and an inevitable scar. Harry took the wandering hand in his.

            “Never again,” he promised. Niall nodded, corners of his lips twitching up. Harry didn’t think he fully believed him, but that was okay. Harry would prove he could trust him.

            He wasn’t naïve. He knew the urges and the dark thoughts weren’t gone forever. They would come back. This time, though, Harry was ready to fight them. It would be a long road trying to love himself, but he loved Niall, and he knew that every time he drank too much, or used drugs, or cut up his skin, it hurt the other man, and Harry didn’t want that. Love shouldn’t hurt.

            Once Niall was on the plane, Harry caught another cab to meet Liam. He was growing nervous now. Liam had been the one to find him, after all, and while he’d been great, staying with Harry all day in the hospital and making sure he was content and safe before leaving him alone for the night (which he didn’t want to do at all, but Harry insisted), Harry wasn’t sure he would still want to work with him after that.

            “Am I fired?” he asked as soon as he’d arrived, cutting off Liam’s typical cheery ‘good morning’ greeting.

            “Why would you be fired?” Liam asked with a frown, looking legitimately confused by the question.

            “Well, I just figured you probably don’t want to work with an emotionally unstable psychopath,” Harry explained. And Liam actually laughed at that.

            “That would be a bit hypocritical of me,” he said, smile on his face again, and it was Harry’s turn to frown in confusion.

            “What do you mean?”

            “You remind me a lot of myself, Harry.”

            “That’s unfortunate,” Harry said sincerely, but Liam laughed again, eyes crinkling like it was the funniest thing in the world. Liam Payne was a strange, wonderful creature, Harry thought.

            “Come here,” Liam urged, and Harry did. Taking off the watch that Harry had thought was probably superglued to his skin, as he’d never seen him without it, Liam flipped over his arm and revealed his own marred wrists. The scars were a bit more faded than Harry’s, but they were there, and the message behind them was likely virtually the same.

            Though Harry had known he couldn’t be the only one who felt the way he did and did the things he did, he had never met anyone to prove it. Compared to him, everyone else seemed so happy and normal but now, seeing skin that could very well be his own, Harry’s eyes widened. Before he could stop himself, he’d grabbed onto Liam’s arm, tracing over the scars softly with his forefinger. Liam didn’t mind. He simply watched Harry with a calm smile on his face until Harry cleared his throat and was able to bring his hands back to himself.

            “I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

            “There’s no need to apologize. If I didn’t want you to look, I wouldn’t have shown you, would I have?”

            “I guess not,” Harry admitted, relieved he hadn’t offended Liam by looking at him like a circus attraction. “But…can I ask why?”

            “Of course!” Liam actually seemed delighted at the question. Definitely a rare creature.

            “I was bullied all throughout school,” he began. “I wasn’t really good at anything, except maybe singing, and that was what I was passionate about, but when I tried to pursue it, I always got rejected. I felt worthless, and I guess I just figured if I hurt myself worse than everybody else did, eventually they couldn’t hurt me at all.”

            “Do you still do it?”

            The scars had been old, but Harry knew the wrist wasn’t the only place he could injure himself. Being in the fashion world, maybe he’d just gone to somewhere less noticeable.

            To his relief, though, Liam shook his head.

            “No, I haven’t for…almost three years now.”

            “What stopped you?”

            “My girlfriend.”

            Harry’s mouth actually dropped open then.

            “Girlfriend?” he repeated.

            “Fiancée, actually,” Liam revised.

            “Oh,” Harry said. “I thought you were…”

            “Most people do,” Liam said with a laugh. “But no, I’m straight.”

            “So…when you left with Louis and Zayn that one night…”

            “They were pretty wasted, and being the good person that I am, I took them to a karaoke bar for my own personal amusement. You and Niall looked pretty cozy and content or I would have invited you lot along too.”

            “Karaoke?!” Harry actually cackled. “Did you get anything on camera?!”

            “Oh, I got it all. We should watch over lunch.”

            “Definitely.”

            Harry took a moment to let everything sink in before speaking again.

            “It’s great to see a straight guy so into fashion and accepting of things,” he commented.

            “I know what it’s like to be hated and tormented for something you can’t help,” Liam said. “I would never want to make someone feel that way. As for the fashion thing…I actually just got drunk with a bunch of friends one night. It was right after we graduated. Of course, our parents were pressuring us to go to university and do something with our lives, so we wrote down the most ridiculous majors and careers we could think of and stuck them in a hat, swearing to each other that we would go through with whatever we chose. And…here I am. I couldn’t justify going to school for this; paying all that money and not using it, and it’s really not bad at all. At least it’s not clown school.”

            Harry laughed, shaking his head in amusement.

            “Well, I’m glad that’s how it worked out for you because I’m glad I met you. And I’m glad you met your fiancée. Did you tell me her name?”

            “No, I don’t think so,” Liam answered. “It’s Sophia.”

            “Sophia. I’m glad you met Sophia.”

            “Niall could be your Sophia if you let him,” Liam said gently. Harry sighed.

            “I know, but I just can’t shake this undeserving feeling.”

            “Does anyone really _deserve_ a love like that though?” Liam pondered aloud. “Or are some of us just lucky enough to get it anyway?”

            Harry thought about that all morning.

 

            “Hey, before you go, I want to mention something,” Liam said later that afternoon as they cleaned up their mess. Their project was coming along wonderfully and Harry was proud of _both_ of them.

            “Sure,” Harry said, standing straight and moving his hair from his eyes.

            “I’d like for you to be a permanent member of our team,” Liam said, “as a designer and even a model, if you want. I may be making assumptions here, and forgive me if I am, but I’m guessing your tiny frame doesn’t come from the healthiest of eating habits.”

            “No, not really, but you knew that right away, didn’t you?” Harry asked with a smile. Liam smiled back sheepishly.

            “Yeah, or I thought I did. That’s why, whenever your current contract is up, I’d like to sign you. You don’t have to hurt yourself, Harry. No one should have to, and you and I…I think maybe we can make at least a little bit of difference for some people in the industry, and maybe even those who aren’t.”

            “That would be amazing, Liam,” Harry said, grin growing. “I would love that so much. I just have to think about it because I believe I’m going to be moving in with Niall in California.”

            Liam positively beamed then, pulling Harry into a tight hug.

            “If you really want this, we’ll work something out,” he promised. Harry didn’t know why he’d been fortunate enough to meet another kind person who actually cared about him in this cruel world but he wasn’t going to question it, not this time.

 

            Harry was alone in his apartment for almost two whole weeks before Niall could visit him again, but it wasn’t so bad. His own company wasn’t terrible when he didn’t let his mind dwell on things he knew would hurt him. He only drank socially, didn’t cut himself once and the only drug he took was the accurate daily dose of his prescribed medication.

            Nonetheless, he was still ecstatic when Niall landed in New York for another visit.

            Harry’s stiches had been taken out just a few days ago and, as he knew there would be, a big, angry scar glared up at him from the pale skin. That was nothing a couple bracelets couldn’t fix, though, and Harry knew that one day, it would be faded and barely existent.

            “Babe,” Niall said as Harry crawled into bed with him that first night, playing carefully with the bracelets Harry still hadn’t removed, despite being in his night clothes.

            “Hmm?” Harry hummed, placing a kiss onto Niall’s mouth because he could.

            “You don’t have to hide anything from me,” Niall said once he had returned the kiss, and, slowly, making sure he had Harry’s permission, slid the accessories from his wrist, placing them on the nightstand.

            “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Harry said with a shrug.

            “You’re not going to make me uncomfortable,” Niall assured him, taking Harry’s arm gently, placing a kiss on the skin that, just two short weeks ago, had been slit open, pouring blood and life from Harry’s body. Harry knew that the blood had long since been restored and felt that, as Niall’s lips went from his wrist, up his arm, to his neck, jawline and finally, lips, that the life was being restored as well.

            “Please never hide from me,” Niall continued, getting on top of Harry, who obediently lay down. “You’re so beautiful, every single part of you.”

            As one of Niall’s hands slid up Harry’s shirt, Harry gasped and shivered. Instead of pulling away, Niall repositioned himself more comfortably on Harry’s torso.

            “I love you, Harry,” he said, taking off his boyfriend’s shirt for him.

            “I love you too,” Harry replied, lying completely still so he didn’t get ahead of himself again. However, once Niall had tossed Harry’s shirt onto the chair in the corner, he took off his own and then unzipped his pants. Harry raised his head, body feeling electric.

            “Really?!” he asked.

            “Really,” Niall replied simply, leaning down to bring Harry into another passionate kiss.

 

            The next day at breakfast, Harry told Niall he wanted to move in with him. Niall replied ecstatically, and the two went shopping, each wanting new stuff for their first place together. Harry had made some pretty stupid decisions in his life, he knew, but Niall Horan was the single great one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that got cheesy, didn't it? ;)
> 
> Also, I'm sorry Louis and Zayn were MIA for this chapter. They'll be back next time, I promise!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis has another epiphany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't fic related; just wanted to say I hope everyone is okay after all the excitement the past few days ;)

“It’s over.”

Zayn looked up from his sketchbook quickly, concerned by the quiver in Louis’ voice. When his eyes locked on the other’s face, it was a mixture of anger and despair, Louis’ arms crossed tight over his chest like he was trying to keep himself together.

“What’s over?” Zayn asked, laying the book on the ground and offering Louis his full attention.

            “Harry is moving in with Niall,” Louis explained, grimacing like it physically hurt him to say the last name. “I guess they’re just supposed to be together forever or something.”

            “Forever is a long time,” Zayn rationalized. Louis sighed and Zayn let a couple moments pass before he spoke again. “I guess that means we need to find a new roommate, yeah?”

            “Actually…,” Louis said, face contorting into nervousness then.

            “What?” Zayn asked, heart already sinking.

            “I’m going back to London,” Louis explained.

            “Oh. Football season starting soon?”

            “Well…yeah, but it’s not just that. I just…I can’t see them together all the time, Zayn. I need to get away from here; get away from the place I lost myself in by doing the one thing I said I’d never do.”

            “Love isn’t a bad thing, Lou,” Zayn said, voice cracking slightly as he rapidly blinked back the river of tears prickling his eyes.

            “Really? Because I feel terrible.”

            Louis had tears in his eyes too now, which didn’t help Zayn’s case at all.

            “I’m sorry,” the footballer continued. “I’ll still visit.”

            All the other man could do was nod and, openly crying now, Louis curled up next to him on the couch, letting Zayn wrap him up tight while just trying to pretend that this…whatever they had wasn’t on its deathbed.

 

            Harry was upset when Louis told him of his plans to go back to London permanently, which made things worse on Louis, but he knew he had to through with it for himself and his sanity. He was going to visit Harry once more before leaving, but that was it. He wouldn’t cut him out completely, of course. Harry was still his friend and he wasn’t going to abandon that, but he had to keep his distance as much as possible. It wasn’t Harry’s felt that Louis was in this predicament-it was fate’s-but that didn’t make it any easier. In fact, it probably made it harder.

            Still, Louis had a few days to spend with Zayn, who called in sick each of those days to squeeze in as much time as possible together. It was as he was lying in bed on the last night-Zayn’s bed, next to Zayn, where he’d been sleeping all week-that Louis realized he didn’t want to leave him. He’d grown quite accustomed to those almond eyes and lean body; how Zayn’s lips fit against this. And he loved Zayn, in his own way. Zayn treated him better than anyone else ever had, actually worrying for his well-being. Of course, Louis wasn’t that selfish. He did the same for Zayn, and he’d opened up to him more than he’d opened up to anybody else. It made him feel _good._

But he had to leave. He just had to.

 

            Louis had mentally prepared himself to have his heart broken a thousand times over during his last couple of days with Harry, but to his surprise, it didn’t hurt all that bad. Both of them cried, naturally, but Louis didn’t feel himself falling apart.

            Maybe that was because he was already broken.

            “You’ll still visit Zayn, yeah?” Harry asked the very last night as they lay on the floor pretending to be watching television but actually just lost in their own thoughts.

            “Of course,” Louis said, a bit taken aback that that was what was on Harry’s mind.

            “Good.”

            Harry let a beat of silence pass before saying, “He loves you, Lou.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Louis said nonchalantly. “I love him too.”

            “No, he _really_ loves you. Like…he’s in love with you.”

            Louis snorted then, sitting up and stretching as he asked, “Harry, did you take too many of your happy pills again?”

            “No!” Harry exclaimed, hitting Louis lightly on the arm the best he could while still lying on the ground. “I’m serious.”

            “Isn’t he still mourning the end of his engagement to the girl he was ready to spend the rest of his life with?”

            It wasn’t really a question, but Harry answered anyway.

            “No, actually…he hasn’t mentioned her for a while.”

            “But I thought the whole reason he moved was to get away from the house he was supposed to share with her?”   

            “Come on, Lou. He moved in with me because he didn’t trust me to live alone. Perrie was just a good excuse.”

            “Zayn doesn’t love me, Harry,” Louis said with an amused shake of his head. “Not as anything more than a mate, that is; a mate he likes to have sex with.”

            “It’s not about the sex, though, not anymore,” Harry insisted. “Don’t you see the way he looks at you? Or how much he smiles when you’re around?”

            “I don’t think he looks at me in any particular way and Zayn smiles because he’s a smiley person.”

            “Trust me; I’ve known Zayn for a couple years now. He is _not_ typically a smiley person. You make him smiley because he loves you!”

“Oh, Harry,” Louis sighed with a smile, “How I will miss your love of love.”

            “What are you afraid of, Lou?” Harry asked, looking and sounding sad as he sat up as well.

            “I’m not afraid of anything, Harry,” Louis said.

            “It’s one thing to be okay being by yourself. For a lot of people, there are much more important things in life than having a partner and being in love, but most people don’t run from love at a million miles an hour, Louis. So why won’t you let yourself have this?”

            “Because it’s not forever, Harry!” Louis exclaimed, feeling a little more frazzled than he’d like to admit. “No matter what, I’ll end up alone one day, and it’s not worth the heartbreak.”

            “I understand where you’re coming from, okay? I do. I was kind of like you. Yeah, I was screaming for love, not running from it, but I would push it away when it got close. That hurt worse than anything, though. Love will hurt sometimes, but it’s worth it.”

            “Maybe for you, but not for me.”

            Harry sighed, shoulders drooping before he laid back down in defeat.

            “Hey,” Louis said gently, laying back down too, closer. “Don’t be upset. I’m glad things are going so well for you and that, despite everything you’ve been through, you’re still able to love and be loved. We’re just different. It doesn’t mean one of us is right or wrong. We’re doing what’s best for us.”

            “Maybe,” Harry said, tucking his head into Louis’ side. “But Zayn wouldn’t hurt you. Just…think about that.”

            Louis hummed a noncommittal response and both of them let the subject drop. It didn’t take long for the mood to pick back up.

            Still, Louis blamed Harry when he fell asleep on the long flight to London and dreamt of Zayn. But it was still Zayn on his mind when he finally reached his home (that didn’t really feel like home anymore) and began to unpack. He thought of Zayn as he moped around, trying to distract himself with stupid television or exercises he couldn’t even put his all into. He missed Zayn when he heated pizza rolls up night after night because the meals he cooked were so much better, and he missed Zayn when he fell asleep without a goodnight kiss.

            Maybe he really was just turning into Harry, he thought; unable to be alone. The thing was, though, that he didn’t really long for anyone else’s company except for the man that refused to leave his mind.

            He tried to forget. He went out with a couple friends that weekend, got a little bit drunk and went home with some even more intoxicated pretty boy, of course fleeing after both of them came down from their brief high.

            Louis was disappointed to find that he only felt worse.

            Finally, a whole week after Louis had arrived back to London, Zayn called. Louis picked up immediately, heart thumping hard. He didn’t think too much about that.

            “I thought you forgot about me, Malik,” Louis said as a means of greeting, voice softer than he’d intended.

            “I could never do that,” Zayn replied, joke not quite making its presence clear in his tone.

The two spent nearly two hours talking, though it felt like ten minutes. Finally, once there was literally nothing else to say, Zayn sighed.

            “I miss you.”

            The sentence wasn’t even all the way out of the other’s mouth before Louis felt himself tear up. Great. This is what he’d become.

            “I miss you too,” he said anyway.

            “I’ll talk to you again soon?” Zayn asked.

            “Of course.”

            On that note, the pair hung up and the emptiness Louis had been fighting off for so long came pouring into him.

            There, lying on the couch, possibly crying (he’d never admit it if he was), Louis came to an epiphany, perhaps one even more staggering than that which he’d had those months ago in Harry’s bathroom. Louis supposed he’d actually come to this new epiphany a while ago, but, like almost everything else, he hadn’t let it in. Now, he could no longer go on pretending that the part of his heart he’d thought had been owned by Harry Styles- _had_ been owned by him, at one point-hadn’t been captured by Zayn Malik.

            His love for Harry had been real, he knew, but he’d also used it as an excuse to keep his heart from the one other person he wanted to give it to. He’d clung to Harry so hard because it was easier to do that and play the role of the heartbroken ‘just friend’ than to let himself feel anything for someone else and be hurt all over again.

            Louis may have cried all night (okay, he did, fuck all of this pretending) because Harry had been right; he’d run not only a million miles an hour away from love, but also thousands of miles across an ocean from it too. He was alone and heartbroken once again, and this time he had no one to blame but himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 2 more chapters :( Thanks so much for all of the continued support!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn goes after what he wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are more than welcome to skip over these notes. They are not related to the story, I just felt the need to have a mini-rant in light of recent events.
> 
> So, obviously, things are a little crazy right now. I just want to tell you guys and ladies that no matter what you believe about the situation, don't think it says anything about you. You are not worth more or less depending on what you identify as, and you don't have to change for anyone or anything.
> 
> If you have no idea what I'm talking about, it's probably just as well and I'm a bit jealous of you ;)
> 
> You already know how to reach my e-mail if you need someone to talk to but I also have tumblr if you'd prefer to get in contact there. Username is lev-and-beth-101. Be warned, that I do share this tumblr with my friend and it is very messy since we basically use it to keep track of things we enjoy, but you are more than welcome to contact me there if you'd like. Either one of us are willing to talk, but you can put your message to Lev or Levi if you'd like a reply from me. I'm not expecting anything, but I just wanted to put this option out there since I've seen people saying they're losing their safe place and feeling alone and hurt. So! There it is and I'll shut up now.

            When Zayn flew to New York for the fashion show where all of Liam’s teams’ designs would be modeled at his yearly fashion show, he was glad to see that Harry seemed to be doing a lot better. His smile met his eyes, he had more water in his system than alcohol and he ‘forgot’ meals a lot less often than Zayn was used to. Zayn was happy for him, honestly, so it wasn’t _that_ hard to force a smile and pretend he was okay too.

            He thought he’d feel better being out of the house. Like Louis, Zayn had never really had a problem being alone, but lately, the silence at the house had been deafening. (Zayn had never really liked that saying until recently, and he still kind of hated it because it was way too accurate.)

            Since he was finally on break from teaching, he could stay with Harry for as long as he wanted, and planned to stay until Harry went back to California. Nothing really felt better at Harry’s apartment, though, because Zayn had grown used to it being three of them. Now that Louis was gone, it felt as if they were missing an organ, almost.

            Harry didn’t notice anything was wrong at first, or at least pretended he didn’t. It was only when Zayn had been there a couple days that Harry said something.

            “What’s wrong?”

            The other’s voice broke through Zayn’s muddled mind and he looked up quickly to see that, while Harry was almost finished with his dinner, Zayn had taken maybe three bites of his own.

            “Nothing’s wrong, Zayn said. “Just not really hungry.”

            Harry raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but with a smile, Zayn changed the subject. He was relieved that Harry let him.

            After the dishes from their meal were all cleaned up, Zayn and Harry made their way to the couch for much needed cuddle/TV time. It didn’t really feel right, though. There was too much space that they couldn’t fill no matter how they contorted their bodies and it made them seem even farther apart.

            “I know we used to do this all the time,” Harry spoke, “but it doesn’t feel right without Louis now, does it?”

            To his own horror, Zayn’s body chose that moment to break down, tears pouring out of his eyes while his body shook with sobs. Harry didn’t seem shocked, however. He simply repositioned himself so he was facing forward on Zayn’s lap, calmly wiping his tears.

            “I never meant for this to happen when I introduced you two,” he said. “I mean…I wanted it to be a happy ending.”

            “I know,” Zayn assured him. “I didn’t think it would happen. I was fine. We were the perfect friends with benefits stereotype, but then…I just couldn’t help it. It happened so quickly.”

            “Well, why don’t you go fight for him?”

            “Because he’s in love with you, Harry,” Zayn replied with a humorless laugh, furiously wiping his own eyes.

            “No he’s not,” Harry said, looking at Zayn as if he’d lost his mind.

            “Yeah, dude, he is.”

            Harry frowned, brow furrowed, but he kept arguing.

            “If he’s in love with me, why was it you that he talked about constantly while he was here?”

            “It wasn’t.”

            “It was. _Everything_ came back to you.”

            “He doesn’t love me.”

            “Maybe not. But maybe. Louis is a complicated creature, Zayn. He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling most of the time. But what if it’s different now? What if he _knows_ he loves you and just thinks you don’t feel the same?”

            Zayn didn’t reply, thinking. It was possible, he supposed. Unlikely, but possible.

            On the other hand, the Louis he first met was a lot different than the Louis that had left him. During their too-short time together, Louis had opened up; shown Zayn that he _had_ a heart…One that he was trying to protect from further damage. So…maybe it wasn’t so unlikely after all?

            “Go to him,” Harry spoke again.

            “Nah,” Zayn said, trying to smile and feeling like he probably grimaced instead. “I’ll have you home soon enough, right? Maybe I’ll just barricade the doors and bar the windows to keep Niall from taking you away from me.”

            Harry rolled his eyes, jumping as Zayn gave his side a half-heart tickle.

            “No one is taking you away from me, but you also shouldn’t let Louis block himself from you.”

            “That doesn’t make sense,” Zayn argued even though it did, a lot. He couldn’t chase after him, though. Not now. It was too late.

            Which was why it didn’t make sense when, a week later, Zayn found himself on a plane headed to London and then, minutes after landing, on Louis’ doorstep.

            He wasn’t a creeper. Louis had given him and Harry his address in case they ever wanted to drop in and ‘give him some love.’ Zayn may have taken that invitation a little too literally, but here he was, and he would be damned if he spent all that money traveling there to turn and go home. Yep, the money was definitely the only reason he rang Louis’ bell, feeling like he was about to have a heart attack right there as he waited for Louis to answer the door.

            Maybe he wasn’t home, Zayn thought after he had been standing there for what seemed like three years. Best just go to a hotel and figure out how he’d gotten to this point anyway.

            Zayn had just turned around and taken a few steps when he heard the door open behind him. He froze. After another year or two, Louis’ voice floated to his ears.            

            “Don’t tell me you woke me up at six in the morning to play ding-dong ditch, Malik.”

            Heart picking up even more speed (he was to die any second, he just knew it), Zayn turned back around to face the other man.

            The first thing he thought was _wow, he’s beautiful_. Of course, Zayn had already known that, but he’d almost forgotten what it was like to witness first-hand Louis’ messy bedhead, sleepy blue eyes and flawlessly relaxed face. The fact that he was only wearing sweats was a plus too.

            “Zayn?” Louis asked, relaxed face changing into worry at his friend’s silence. “Are you okay?”

            “It’s six in the morning?”

            Zayn hadn’t known that was what was going to come out of his mouth, but it could have been worse, he supposed.

            “About that, yeah,” Louis answered, crossing his arms and looking amused then.

            “I’m a big jet-lagged, sorry,” Zayn mumbled awkwardly. “I’ll come back later.”

            “Don’t you dare. Get your sexy arse in here.”

            With a small smile, Zayn followed Louis inside. As soon as the door was shut, Louis threw his arms around his neck and pulled him close. Zayn held him back, feeling the slightest bit of hope starting to form.

            “Is everything okay?” Louis asked when he pulled away after a bit.

            “Yeah. Just missed you,” Zayn said.

            “I missed you too. What do you say we go sleep for a few hours, though, yeah? Then we can do whatever you want.”

            “Sleep sounds good,” Zayn agreed, exhaustion suddenly hitting him like a ton of bricks.

            “Excellent.”

            Taking one of Zayn’s hands and apparently leaving all of his luggage for later, Louis led him upstairs and to what Zayn assumed was his bedroom, as the sheets on the bed were pulled back and discarded clothes littered the floors.

            “Can I use the bathroom first?” Zayn asked as Louis headed towards his bed.

            “No,” the other man said, but pointed it out anyway. Zayn smiled and went the direction he was shown. When he got back to the bedroom, Louis appeared to be asleep, but when Zayn laid himself down beside him, he turned his body immediately, snuggling close to Zayn’s side. Zayn took a chance by kissing the top of Louis’ head softly, but the athlete let out a content sigh, so the risk paid off and, smiling, Zayn fell asleep.

            He woke a few hours later to the smell of food, which was rather alarming. Louis didn’t cook, so the only conclusions Zayn could come up with were that someone else was in the house or Louis was deathly ill and delirious.

            Standing up and straightening his clothes, Zayn made his way downstairs.

            “Lou?” he called.

            “In here!” Louis called from what Zayn assumed was the kitchen. When he followed Louis’ voice, he found that he was right.

            “You woke just in time,” Louis commented. “Our omelets just got done.”

            “You cooked?”

            “I did.”

            “…Are you feeling okay?”

            Louis laughed and Zayn watched as he adorably stood on his tiptoes to pull a couple of cups down from the cupboard.

            “Right now, I’m feeling just fine,” Louis assured him. “I’m not sure how either of us will be feeling after eating these, though.”

            “They look normal,” Zayn observed. They weren’t the nicest omelets; put together a bit messily, but they did at least resemble what they were supposed to. “Smell normal too.”

            “If they’re disgusting, we’ll pitch them and go out, pretending this never happened.”

            “Sounds good.”

            Zayn was pleasantly surprised, though, that the food actually tasted pretty good; slightly above average. Of course, maybe he was biased, as he was so stupidly flattered by the fact that Louis had cooked for him.

            After breakfast, the two lazed around on the couch until noon when they finally showered and decided to go out.

            They didn’t do anything remarkable, just walked around the London streets, stopping to enter shops when they found something they thought may be interesting. Zayn was a bit taken aback by the amount of paparazzi and fans wanting Louis to stop and pose (which he obliged to every time) because, while he was recognized in the US, it was nothing like here. It didn’t bother him, though. He was used to it because of Harry anyway.

            “You’ll probably be my boyfriend by tomorrow,” Louis told Zayn, who knew he only meant according to tabloid rumors, but his heart skipped a beat anyway.

            “We’re not even holding hands, though,” he commented, hoping he sounded nonchalant about it. “We’re a pretty boring couple.”

            The sentence was barely out of his mouth before Louis stopped dead in his tracks, almost making Zayn fall straight to the ground as he spun him around. Balling his hands into fists around Zayn’s shirt, Louis pulled himself up and shoved his tongue straight into Zayn’s mouth, not bothering to hide his little moans as he took in the taste of Zayn and his toothpaste.

            “What was that?!” Zayn gasped once Louis had finally let him out of his grasp.

            “Zayn Malik, you should know better than to call me boring,” Louis said, lacing their fingers together as he smiled for those still taking pictures.

            “I don’t know…now I kind of want to see what you would do if I called you boring again,” Zayn told him.

            “I’m not quite sure the public is ready for that kind of visual,” Louis replied.

 

            Zayn took Louis to dinner that night, surprised that he’d said yes. They’d gone out to eat, just the two of them before, but never to any place that was even the slightest bit romantic. That night, they were eating dinner by candlelight, posh waiters in suits filling up their wine classes the second they ran empty.

            “I feel rich,” Louis commented, looking around with a small smile on his face. _He’s so beautiful._

            “You are rich, dorkus,” Zayn pointed out. Louis looked at him, smile growing bigger.

            “Yes, but I don’t usually _feel_ rich.”

            “I see.”

            Zayn wanted to hold Louis’ hand from across the table. He didn’t.

            They talked all throughout dinner, Louis getting tipsy to the point where Zayn politely asked the waiter to cut him off.

            “He just doesn’t want to have to clean the vomit off me later,” Louis informed the waiter.

            “You’re classy, Lou,” Zayn informed him. Louis burped loudly.

            Zayn loved him.

 

            Zayn wasn’t nearly as buzzed as Louis, but decided they should walk around a bit before he drove them home in Louis’ car. It was a nice night; warm without being muggy, just a slight breeze going through the air. The sky was clear, lit up by thousands of twinkling stars, which Louis tended to get distracted by. Zayn held his hand as they wandered, not saying a word whenever he stumbled over nothing, but keeping him from hitting the ground regardless.

            “Zayn,” Louis giggled after a while. “I’m dizzy.”

            Luckily, they were strolling across a small bridge going over a little pond, so Zayn stopped to lift Louis and set him on top of it, keeping a firm hold around his waist so he wouldn’t fall into the water.

            “I’m glad you’re here,” Louis said softly, smile on his face as he stared intently at Zayn.

            “Me too,” the other man replied.

            “Kiss me?”

            Zayn obliged.

            “Turn me around,” Louis spoke again after a moment. “I want to see the fishies and the ducks.”

            So Zayn did as he was asked, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder as he continued to hold him firmly in place. Louis hummed quietly as he gazed out into the water. Not much was happening, all of the pond creatures seeming to be taking a lazy night, but as two ducks floated by from under the bridge, Louis perked up.

            “Look, Zaynie!” he said, smile in his voice. “I think they’re on a date too.”

            “Yeah?” Zayn asked, turning his head to place a kiss on the side of Louis’ neck.

            “I think they’re in love,” Louis added, still watching the ducks.

            “I’m in love with you.”

            Zayn hadn’t actually meant to say it right then…except that maybe he had. Those words had been on the tip of his tongue since that morning and as he said them, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Yes, he’d just made himself vulnerable. Yes, Louis could take what he’d just told him and destroy him, but it didn’t matter. Whatever happened now wasn’t up to Zayn. He no longer had any control over the situation, and that was a huge burden taken from him.

            “You blindsided me, Zayn,” Louis spoke after a few moments of nothing.

            “I’m sorry,” Zayn said, pulling away so his head was no longer touching the other’s body. Only his arms were in contact with him, keeping him from plummeting into the pond and disturbing the peace of the night. “You can pretend you didn’t hear that.”

            “No,” Louis argued, turning clumsily to face Zayn as the artist’s grip on him tightened. “I don’t mean just now.”

            “What do you mean then?”

            “I mean…I’ve been hiding from love all my life, you know that, but then I couldn’t help it; I fell in love. And slowly, I accepted that, even though it hurt. What I didn’t realize, though, or what I refused to acknowledge was that I was the one causing me pain because it was you I was in love with. It was you I was keeping myself from.”

            Honestly, Zayn wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that. He was a bit dizzy himself then, and he was pretty sure fireworks were going off; fireworks only he could hear, of course.

            “I love you,” Louis said when Zayn remained quiet, a small, worried frown on his face.

            “I’m just going to kiss you now,” Zayn chose as his reply. Louis giggled.

            “Okay.”

 

            Louis fell sleep on the way back home, so Zayn carried him in and put him in bed, hurrying to wash up before crawling in next to him.

            “I love you,” he said quietly, kissing the other’s forehead gently. He didn’t receive a reply, but that was alright.

 

            When Zayn woke, the first thing he saw was pretty blue eyes and he smiled. He could definitely get used to waking up like that. There was one thing he had to make sure of first, though.

            “Morning,” he greeted, voice groggy but cheerful, and Louis smiled.

            “Morning!”

            “So…last night…?”

            “Yeah?”

            “I just want to make sure it was _you_ talking and not the wine.”

            “I’m not going to lie to you, Zayn, the wine made it a lot easier to say, but it wasn’t doing the talking. It’s worn off now, and I’m still in love with you. Pretty sure that’s not changing.”

            Zayn’s smile threatened to split his face.

 

            “So,” Louis piped up from the breakfast bar.

            “Hm…?” Zayn asked, pouring milk into Louis’ cereal and setting it in front of him before getting his own.

            “I have to stay in London to prepare for football season, but…I want you to stay with me, at least until classes start.”

            “I would love to,” Zayn said, pecking a kiss to Louis’ cheek before sitting down beside him. “But there’s one thing.”

            “What’s that?”

            “I don’t think I want to leave you to go back to class.”

            “Z…”

            “They have time to find someone else to fill my classes, and I can find a teaching or photography job anywhere. We don’t have to live together, Lou, but I don’t want to live an ocean apart either.”

            “Hm…,” Louis hummed, abandoning his cereal to crawl into Zayn’s lap. “If you’re staying in London, you’re staying right here with me.”

            “Really?” Zayn asked, another too big smile beginning to form. He really needed to get ahold of his facial muscles.

            “Yep,” Louis answered, popping the ‘p.’ “You’re mine.”

            “I wouldn’t want to be anything but.”

            Louis smiled too then, and Zayn was pretty sure they’d both just heard the pieces of their lives clicking in place; falling together.


	17. Epilogue

            -2 ½ years later-

           “Zaynie!”

            “What?!” Zayn called from the bathroom, and Louis smiled at the false annoyance in his voice.

            “Stop messing with your hair and help me tie me tie!”

            The bathroom door opened and out stepped Zayn, looking like a supermodel. Louis smiled.

            “I’m finished anyway,” he said, walking over to the other man and skillfully helping him with his tie.

            “I can tell. Your hair is immaculate,” Louis replied, reaching out a hand to touch it, but Zayn smacked it gently away.

            “There,” he said once he was done with Louis’ tie, stepping back to admire the man with a smile on his face. “You’re so handsome.”

            Smiling, Louis pulled Zayn into a passionate kiss before sitting on the bed to put on his shoes.

            “I can’t believe Harry is finally getting his fairytale wedding.”

            “Yeah, I know. It’s going to be so amazing. Although not as amazing as ours was.”

            “Of course not. _Nothing_ can beat our wedding.”

            “Yeah…even though you almost fainted.”

            “Excuse you, my knees were locked and I was too enthralled by your beauty to notice, so it was actually all your fault.”

            “I’m so sorry, my love.”

            Taking Louis’ outstretched hand, Zayn gave the top of it a gentle kiss before pulling him from the bed.

            “Can I just look at you all day?” Zayn asked, to which Louis rolled his eyes.

            “Shut up, you damn cheeseball, we’re going to be late.”

            “But you’re sooooo pretty.”

            “Go,” Louis demanded, smacking Zayn’s butt to get him moving.

            “You’ll pay for that,” Zayn warned as he headed out the door, his husband right behind him.

            “I hope so,” Louis replied.

 

            It had been awhile since the boys had seen Niall or Harry. Once Harry had finished his previous modeling contract those couple of years ago and was preparing himself to sign with Liam, and Niall had a break from touring, the two spent a couple weeks in London with Louis and Zayn. It took a bit, but slowly, Louis and Niall stopped hating each other’s guts, much to Harry’s delight. Now, they could even be considered friends. Niall had known about Louis’ feelings towards his boyfriend, so Louis supposed he could see why he’d despised him, but they laughed about it now. Louis never really was a threat, Niall had realized. Harry was head over heels in love with him and him only. Louis had also come to his senses, realizing that Niall was good for Harry and probably dealt with all of the man’s ‘quirks’ better than Louis ever could. But that was okay because no one could ever love Zayn like Louis loved him, and Louis wouldn’t change the way things worked out for anything.

            Louis and Zayn’s official place of residence was London, with a home in California for holidays, right by the other couple’s. Still, it had been months since the two pairs had seen each other, as Niall and Harry often spent holidays in Ireland. From short phone calls and occasional Skype sessions, they knew Harry was doing well, but seeing him in person showed just how good life had been treating him-and how much better he’d been treating himself. He was thin still, but he had muscle. His eyes were bright and clear, and he just looked happy. Genuinely happy. Louis almost cried, but only for good reasons. He wasn’t the only one, though. Almost everyone who attended the wedding cried at one point. Everyone except Harry.

 

            He supposed he should be nervous. He should probably be a mess, overwhelmed with emotions, but he was calm. He’d waited his entire life for this day, so feeling anything other than joy would be stupid, and Harry wasn’t stupid; not anymore.

            “Jesus Christ!” Ashton hissed, throwing his hands up in defeat as the boutonniere he’d been attempting to pin on Harry’s suit for at least a good five minutes fell once again.

            “Go get your wife,” Harry said with a laugh.

            “I’ve got this,” Ashton insisted, taking a deep breath before trying-and failing-once again. Harry rolled his eyes, smile on his face as he called out for his sister. Moments later, she poked her head through the door.

            “Yes, dear?”

            “Your husband is useless,” Harry teased.

            “Don’t I know it,” she joked back, stepping inside the room to assist.

            “How’s Maya today?” Harry asked as he placed one hand on his sister’s pregnant belly, causing her to glare.

            “She’s pissed you couldn’t wait two months for her to be born so her mommy wouldn’t look like an elephant on the most important day of my life.”

            “Most important day of _your_ life?” Ashton asked.

            “If you were there to deal with the aftermath of all of Harry’s heartbreaks, you would understand,” Gemma said, and Harry smiled sheepishly.

            “Thanks for everything though, Gem, seriously.”

            “Of course,” she said, patting his chest as she finished the boutonniere. “I’m so in love with that suit. Did Liam really make it all by himself?”

            “No, Sophia helped him. He said she did most of it, actually.”

            “I’m glad Maya’s in-laws are so talented.”

            Harry laughed, agreeing. Liam and Sophia’s son Gavin had been born only a couple months ago, leaving the age gap between the babies to be four months at most, and they had all joked (although were kind of serious) that the two would fall in love one day.

            “I must get back to your almost-husband now to assure him you’re okay,” Gemma announced. “You _are_ all good, right? No cold feet?”

            “Of course not. I’m wonderful,” Harry assured.

 

            The ceremony was over in the blink of an eye. It seemed like only seconds passed from Harry first seeing Niall standing at the altar, to slipping each other’s rings on their fingers, to Niall pulling him close and kissing him like it was their first kiss, and before he knew it, they were at the reception. Niall’s brother gave a speech and then Ashton. (It was supposed to have been Gemma, but she was crying too hard. Good tears, she made sure everyone knew.)

            After the food, it was time for Niall and Maura’s mother/son dance, and Harry watched, huge smile on his face. Obviously, he wasn’t doing any type of special dance, and he was okay with that. He and Niall had had their newlywed dance, and it was clumsy, but it was perfect.

            Once Niall and his mom’s song ended, both headed over to Harry, Niall sitting beside him and kissing his cheek as Maura held out her hand to her son-in-law.

            “Um…what?” Harry asked, glancing from her to Niall and back to her.

            “It’s time for our dance now, sweetie,” the woman told him, smile lighting her face.

            “Our dance?”

            “Of course! You’re my son too.”

            “Oh, Maura, you…you don’t have to.

            “Are you really rejecting me mum for a dance?” Niall asked, but his face and tone showed he was just teasing him, so Harry smiled.

            “No. Definitely not,” he said, taking Maura’s hand and leading her to the center of the dance floor. The whole place cheered.

            Harry expected the dance to be awkward, but it wasn’t. It was also perfect just like everything else about the day. Harry had had a long, rocky road to his happily ever after, and even though he still had a long way to go for the ending, he was confident that it would be everything he’d dreamed of, and maybe even more.

            “Harry.”

            As Harry felt a tap on his shoulder, he spun around, squealing and jumping into the arms of the person trying to get his attention.

            “Louis!”

            Louis laughed, squeezing the other man a little before setting him back onto his feet.

            “Your carriage has arrived to carry you and Prince Charming off into the sunset.”

            Harry laughed. “Already?”

            “Sadly, yes.”

            “Okay.”

            Harry smiled, giving Louis another hug.

            “You look happy,” he commented.

            “I am happy. Are you?”

            “Yes. So happy.”

            “Good. You deserve this, Harry.”

            Harry smiled, pulling back from Louis. There was another tap on his shoulder and he turned again, this time facing his husband.

            “Ready, babe?”

            Harry nodded, lacing hands with the love of his life. Everyone followed them outside to see them off. Harry had been expecting a limo, but instead, Niall led him to an _actual_ horse drawn carriage. His mouth dropped open.

            “You didn’t.”

            “It appears that I did.”

            “This is ridiculous. I love it.”

            With a smile, Niall helped his new husband into the carriage, waving at their guests before climbing in himself.

            “Today was perfect,” Harry sighed happily, leaning comfortably against the other man as the horses began to move. “Thank you.”

            “What are you thanking me for?”

            “Lots of things. Loving me.”

            “You kind of made it impossible not to.”

            Twisting his body around, Harry gazed up at Niall’s face, telling himself for the thousandth time that this was it. This was who he was going to be waking to and going to sleep with. This human angel was his forever.

            “I’m glad I tripped over your feet at the club,” Harry said, recalling the first time they met with a smile.

            “I am too,” Niall agreed. “I only wish I would have caught you.”

            “It’s okay,” Harry assured him. “You picked me back up.”

            “Always.”

            “Always and forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...my endings are always sketchy, but I hope you ladies and gents enjoyed it. Thanks for all of the support!


End file.
